Becoming What, Exactly?
by Clever Lass
Summary: Written at the end of season 2. When Buffy decides to fly to New York and start a new life, what happens when she sees Spike and Drusilla on the same flight? She and Spike must continue their alliance, but where does Angel fit in?


Becoming What, Exactly?  
  
Timeline: This takes place after "Becoming," right at the end of season 2 when Spike and Buffy conspired to bring down Angelus. The episode ended with Buffy on a bus out of town, and Spike driving away with an unconscious Drusilla. This story picks up right at that moment.

(Oh, and I've never seen the basement of the NY Public Library; I just think it would be nifty if it were as I described.)

Disclaimer: All the characters except Joe, Linda, and to a small extent, Adam, belong to Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy. Any similarities to any person, living or undead, is purely coincidental. Brian Bowers wrote "The Scotsman," which is mentioned briefly, and there are a couple of nods to Douglas Adams in here as well.  
  
Part 1  
  
Spike slammed the car into gear and took off. As he rounded a corner, he noticed Dru's head rolling to the motion of the car. He hauled her over next to him and put a determined arm around her. He had to find a place for the two of them to hole up for the day, and he was afraid of Dru's waking up before he found one. In a fit of despair and anger, she might open the car door and immolate them both.  
  
He passed what looked like an abandoned house and backed up to get a better look. Ah, just the thing. He pulled in and parked behind the barn, using the shadow of it to shelter himself and Drusilla from the sun while he dragged her inside to safety.  
  
Inside, he glanced around. The house looked as if it hadn't been lived in for at least a year. He knew Dru would probably want to sleep in one of the bedrooms, but he didn't want to take any chances. He found the door leading down to the dank earth basement and carried her down the narrow cellar stairs. He laid her gently on the ground and sniffed, wrinkling his nose. Definitely unused for at least a year, he decided. Well, then. He lay down next to her and composed himself for sleep. It didn't come. He waited. It still didn't come.  
  
He was therefore wide-awake when he heard the barest hint of movement next to him. Out of instinct, he threw up an arm to ward off the attack. Quickly rolling out of the way, he saw the light of battle in Drusilla's icy grey eyes. He cursed. "Bloody hell! Dru, will you give me a minute? Let me explain!" He was reasonably confidant that she'd melt and forgive him when she heard his explanation: that he missed her, and he didn't want the world to end.  
  
Unfortunately, she wasn't giving him a chance to explain. She shrieked with rage and swiped his face with her nails. He growled and grabbed her wrists, pinning her down underneath him. He dimly recalled the old days when they used to do things like this for fun, instead of for self-defense.  
  
"Now listen, pet -- " he began, but she interrupted him.  
  
"You're not my little Spike anymore," she whimpered in one of her lightning- fast mood swings. "You attacked me. You kidnapped me, and didn't bring my dolls. You collaborated with the slayer, and you hurt my Angel!" She cried, and made another feeble swipe.  
  
"Yes, I'm sorry about that, luv. Well, most of it, anyway." He smiled again at the sweet memory of kicking Angel's teeth in. "I just did what I thought would be best. And cheer up anyway; when we left, it looked like Angel was about to have a bowl of slayer with milk for breakfast. Hell could still open up, you know." He hoped like anything that he was wrong; he had to have faith in the slayer. He'd seen her resourcefulness before; he knew she could pull off some amazing things. Like making him and Drusilla leave town, for instance, he reminded himself before he went too far on his slayer-admiration kick. Sick.  
  
"No, no, it won't open now." Drusilla's eyes took on a glassy look. "It's gone now, and so is my Angel. And so is the slayer. They've all gone to the same place, but the slayer's place is somewhere else." She finished dreamily.  
  
Spike sighed impatiently. Her visions were all well and good, but he wished sometimes that she could speak a little plainer. "You mean the slayer's gone? Where?"  
  
"To hell," she answered. Spike was surprised. Can't get much plainer than that. She finally relaxed under him, and he risked letting her go. She stretched. "Spike? Where are we going?"  
  
"First to New York, so we can arrange to go home. How would you like another visit to Prague?"  
  
"Do you think they'll still be waiting for me there? They hurt me, Spike." She moaned.  
  
"No, no, pet, they'll have forgotten all about you by now. You'll have to remind them all over again, my love." He smoothed her hair.  
  
"That's my good Spike. I think I'll sleep until we get to Prague. Is that all right? And then I'm going to kill you."  
  
Spike, with a temporary stay of execution, and with visions of carrying her, sleeping, through busy airports, coughed. "Sure, luv, just make sure you wake at each airport, right?"  
  
"Every airport. So I can look at the pretty people." She drifted off, and Spike felt greatly relieved. He'd seen her long sleeps before, and he knew she was very unlikely to kill him during one of them. After they reached Prague, though, was another story. He wouldn't be safe again, ever - unless she forgot. He stretched out beside her again and went to sleep, vowing to try and find something to distract her from her plan, something that would distract her kitten-like span of attention from her expansive plots of revenge.  
  
Part 2  
  
When night fell, he woke her and loaded her back into the car and sped up to LA. City of Angels, he thought with an amused snort. Drusilla woke when they reached the airport, just as she'd promised. He left her safely glaring at a small boy who was crying loudly that he was lost, and went and booked a flight to New York. He did plan to leave the country, maybe even actually reach Prague someday, but he still had some loose ends to tie up in the Big Apple.  
  
Flight booked, he went and got Dru, who was looking suspiciously rosy and well fed. The small boy was nowhere to be found. He sighed. He could have done with a bite, himself. He hadn't had anything to eat in a few weeks, only what Dru could talk Angel into bringing back for him. He hadn't gone out, so as not to arouse suspicious - and the accursed slayer had ruined his only chance for a meal when she didn't let him kill that damned cop. If he'd been human, he'd be fainting right now. As it was, he didn't know if he'd be able to survive the six-hour flight without losing control.  
  
The flight left at 9pm, and he and Drusilla were on it. She went to sleep again, slumped next to the window. He had the aisle seat, but his own rest - not to mention digestive system - were interrupted by people going up and down the aisle. He had just about decided to grab and feed on the next person to walk by and wake him up, he was so irritated and hungry, when he heard a gasp and actually looked up at the next person.  
  
Buffy.  
  
Buffy stood there in jeans, tank top, and a black watch cap on her head, her green eyes wide.  
  
They stared at each other in shock until a stewardess came up behind Buffy said, "Uh, excuse me, Miss? Could I get by, please?"  
  
Buffy grabbed Spike's arm in a rock-hard grip. "Come. With me. Now." She ground out.  
  
Spike glanced at Dru, making sure she was still in her self-induced coma, and let himself be dragged to the tiny bathroom in the rear of the plane. She pushed him in and followed, locking the door. There was no room to fight in there, and they both knew it. Instead, Buffy folded her arms threateningly and said one word: "WELL?"  
  
Spike's lip curved a little. "If you've got me in here for a quickie, luv, I hate to disappoint you but I'm just not in shape for it. All that 'battling the forces of evil' and all"  
  
Outrage suffused Buffy's face with red. Spike watched interestedly as the blood rushed to her cheeks. He licked his lips. "Of course you could change that, if you're feeling at all Red Crossy."  
  
She lost her temper and slugged him in the mouth. It didn't hurt much; she hadn't had much room for a wind-up. He took it, but it did weaken him when it shouldn't have. He aimed a punch to her gut, and when she doubled over, she whammed him in the stomach with her head. He had intended to give her a knee to the nose when she doubled over, but it backfired and he whacked his knee on the corner of the tiny sink. He groaned. She tried to knee him in the groin but ended up whacking her knee just as he had. "Ouch!" she said. She looked at him, feeling silly, and with a sneaking suspicion that he felt the same way.  
  
"There's really no room in here for fighting, is there?" she said. Spike shook his head reluctantly, rubbing his stomach where her head had impacted. "What are you two doing here, anyway? Didn't I tell you to leave?"  
  
"I did leave," he replied. "I just didn't expect you to leave as well. What's going on, Slayer? You're not exactly in Kansas anymore."  
  
"Actually, I think we are." Buffy said, suddenly tired. "Over it, anyway. I left home."  
  
"I can see that. Why?" he was curious in spite of himself. "I thought once you'd got rid of me and Dru and taken care of Angel, that you'd be living the high life." Suddenly suspicious: "You did take care of Angel, didn't you?"  
  
"Angel's blood opened the door to hell. Only Angel's blood could close it again." Her voice got sharper. "Please note the general lack of hellishness around here, and draw your own conclusions!"  
  
"My, my. Touchy!" he commented. "Rough night?"  
  
She glared at him. "You could say that. If you were incredibly given to understatement!" she said.  
  
"Well, for what it's worth, thanks for saving the world and all. If I were a nicer guy, I'd treat you to a Happy Meal, just to even the score." He noted that the expression on her face boded ill for him, whether there was room to fight or not. Hastily, he eased past her and opened the door. "And if we're all finished here..." he said, and left.  
  
Part 3  
  
Buffy splashed water on her face. She tried to see what her hair looked like, but the mirror was completely fogged up by the fighting and intense conversation in the three-foot square bathroom. She stepped out...  
  
...To the sound of light, mocking applause. Her mind said, "Huh?" until she noticed the leers and lascivious grins on the faces of a few passengers sitting near the tail: passengers who would have heard the scuffle, and who could see the foggy mirror. One guy muttered a grinning reference to the "mile-high club." She scowled at him and headed back to her seat, carefully ignoring Spike as she went by them.  
  
An hour or two passed uneventfully; then Spike startled her by sliding into the empty seat beside her in the aisle. "'Allo, luv," he said. He noticed the stake she had whipped out and was holding at his chest. "Here, put away your toys, little girl. I just want to talk. Truce, remember?" She nodded reluctantly and put away her stake. He continued with a straight face, "Besides, if you kill me now, you'll really disappoint all those guys out there who thought I was screwing you in the lavatory while my girlfriend was napping."  
  
Buffy sputtered with indignation, while Spike smirked and waited for her to become coherent. She narrowed her eyes said, "So talk. Where are you going with Drusilla?"  
  
He rolled his eyes. "At the moment, I seem to be going nowhere with Drusilla. Where we're headed, though, is New York, so I can make arrangements for leaving the country like we agreed. So where are you going?"  
  
Buffy shrugged. "Away."  
  
"Yes, didn't we already cover that? I can figure out where the plane is headed, but I'm curious to know why you're on it."  
  
"And you think I'm going to tell you?"  
  
He tsked at her. "You really should work on that testiness of yours, little girl. Does your Watcher-daddy know you're away?" Buffy colored and looked away. Spike laughed out loud. "He doesn't? What about your lovely, clueless mum?"  
  
"No, not her either. Can we change the subject?" she said irritably.  
  
Another stewardess wheeled her cart up the aisle, handing out drinks and snacks. Spike gazed at her longingly. "God, I'm hungry!" he muttered, licking his lips. Buffy's eyebrows went up when she realized he was eyeing the woman, not the snacks she was handing out.  
  
"Oh, no you don't." she said. "I can't kill you on this flight, anymore than you can kill me, but I'm not going to let you kill anyone else, either."  
  
Spike leaned back and swallowed. "I know, I know," he grumbled. "But you seem to forget that you wouldn't let me eat before we left. I haven't eaten in four days."  
  
Buffy made a derisive snort. "Oh, so am I supposed to feel sorry for you? Listen, I just killed my boyfriend, got disowned by my family, and I'm wanted by the cops. If we're having a self-pity contest, I think I've just won the Triple Crown!"  
  
He thought about this and nodded, she was right, but he still couldn't keep his eyes off the stewardess; that is, until he looked at the small angry girl beside him and noticed the pulse throbbing in her neck, the blue vein that pulsed in her wrist. He swallowed thickly... and then had a wonderful idea!  
  
"Listen, slayer," he said in a businesslike manner. "The fact is, I'm awfully hungry. Haven't been eating right all the time I was recovering, have I? I know that there are too few other people on this flight for me to have one of them - they'd be missed too soon. So how about that Red Cross thing we mentioned earlier?" Spike had heard rumors of the powers inherent in slayer-blood, but he'd never tried it before. He's always been more of a kill-and-tell bloke, preferring to get the death over with quickly so he could brag about it.  
  
"WHAT?" hissed Buffy. "Are you out of your undead mind? You actually expect me to donate some blood for you, out of what? Some sense of altruism?" Her face could not possibly have expressed more disgust or disbelief.  
  
Spike smiled. The more he thought of this idea, the better he liked it. "Oh, come on now, little slayer. You'll give up everything you have in order to keep the world from ending for me, but you won't give me even one little pint of blood so I don't go mad and hijack the plane?"  
  
"So is that your plan? You'll threaten to hijack the plane?"  
  
Spike coughed. "Well, actually, I was planning to segue directly into the more personal threats. Blackmail was going to be my ultimate destination, after a lot more banter and threats back and forth. But if you want to skip all that and jump right into it, yeah. It's blackmail. I know where you're going. Your family and friends don't. Neither do the cops. If you don't want them to know, then tell me. Give me a little sign. In fact, give me a little blood. Then I won't tell them, and you and I can go our separate ways and live happily ever after. The choice is yours -- just decide by the time we land." He gave her a chipper smile.  
  
"What if I kill you both when we land?" she asked.  
  
"Oh, no, that would never do. It would attract attention, reporters, cops, gawkers --" He shook his head in mock sympathy. "You'd be arrested, and probably wouldn't get us both anyway, and there are phones in the airport, you know." He patted her cheek. "Think about it, my girl. You'll see I'm right." And he left, went back to his own seat, chuckling.  
  
Part 4  
  
Buffy sat and fumed for a long while. Then she stewed for even longer. Finally she sighed in resignation, then took out a tiny silver knife and cut her arm. She methodically bled herself into her plastic cup, then reached into her bag and tore a strip from one of her T-shirts to bandage the wound. She made her way carefully with the cup back to where Spike was sitting next to a sleeping Drusilla and reading a magazine. He looked up expectantly.  
  
"Here." She said, handing him the cup. "This should tide you over."  
  
He arched a mocking eyebrow and sniffed the cup. "Poisoned?" he asked.  
  
"No. Mine." Buffy answered expressionlessly. "You win. Guess I was in a Red Crossy mood after all. Just don't tell Giles and the rest where I am. Oh, and do me a favor and try not to kill anyone until after I leave the airport, okay?" She turned and stalked away.  
  
"Least I can do," he murmured, savoring the aroma of the cup's contents. He hadn't really expected his plan to succeed. He sighed in deep, rich contentment and downed half of the cup in one swallow, then stopped and looked at his sleeping princess. He played with the idea of waking her up to share some of this bounty, then discarded it almost immediately. He remembered the lost child in LA, and the fact that she had gone out with Angel the night before while he still stayed at home in his wheelchair, biding his time. Then she had come home with Angel, barely sparing a glance for her sweet little Spike before following Angel into his bedroom. The closed door had not quite muffled her gasps and squeals. His eyes hardened at the memory, and he swiftly drained the cup.  
  
Whoa! Now he knew what had finally freed the master! Her blood's power went straight to his head, and he laughed. This was better than drugs, better than booze, better than - he cast a guilty eye at Drusilla and ended that line of thought.

It was the best high he'd ever had. Made his wild experiences at Woodstock seem like a couple of caffeine jitters. The plane whirled around - or was it just him? He glanced at Drusilla again, with a different attitude. Suddenly, he was sick of catering to her constant bids for attention, having to always buy her birds and bring home pets for her to play with. He remembered, through a drugged haze, what it had been like without her: the freedom to do anything he wanted, to kill where he pleased, to wreak mayhem wherever he wanted. He grew misty-eyed, thinking of what his life had been like without Drusilla. He missed it.

He began to entertain thoughts of staking her as she slept, but then remembered what he and the slayer had agreed upon: there were too few people on this flight. One of them would be missed if he did in anyone, even Dru. He started to calculate how soon he could off her after they landed, and these thoughts kept him smiling, enjoying the high, until the "Please Fasten Seatbelts" light came on.  
  
Part 5  
  
He woke Drusilla gently, thanking his lucky stars that she always woke up slow and groggy. With any luck, he'd have them out of the airport before she ever laid eyes on the slayer. They disembarked.  
  
Everything went according to plan. He almost chuckled at how well everything was going. Buffy was way ahead of them, occasionally looking back warily, and Drusilla kept her eyes lowered. "Spike? You smell different. What happened?"  
  
"Nothing, pet."  
  
"You smell like Angel used to. Like her." He said nothing, and just as he'd hoped, she got distracted again. "Look at all the people," she murmured. "Spike, they're like poor little lost sheep. They don't have any idea that the wolves are here, do they?"  
  
"Not a clue, luv," Spike said.  
  
Then it happened. Drusilla looked up at the "sheep" in front of her, at the same instant that Buffy looked back to keep track of them. "Aaaaaaaahhh!!!" Drusilla shrieked with rage and ran to attack Buffy, who instinctively took out her stake. Drusilla knocked it aside. "You took him away from me!" she cried as they fought. "You've killed my Angel! Now you're taking my Spike!"  
  
"Nope," grunted Buffy as one of Dru's shots connected. "I killed MY Angel, and you can keep your precious Spike! Oof!"  
  
One gawker said to another, "Gotta love these New York psychos. What did she say? How many angels can dance on the head of a spike?" His companion shrugged and they walked off, leaving Spike wrestling with the strangest mental picture he had ever had.  
  
The women rolled over and over the floor, Buffy using her fists mostly, wishing she could get to her feet so she could get in a good kick. Drusilla scratched Buffy's neck like she had Kendra's, but Buffy was wise to her now and the scratch didn't go deep. Suddenly, Drusilla changed her tactics. Rolling to her feet, she caught the slayer's eye.  
  
"Look at me," she said. Buffy blinked, then met her eyes. Drusilla smiled. "Look deeper!" she hissed. Buffy began, very slowly, to walk towards her. Drusilla drew back for the kill, but received a startling and felling boot to the head, which landed her on the floor.  
  
"You know that hypnosis crap?" Buffy panted, falling upon her again with a few well-aimed kicks and punches. "It's passé, really. It didn't even work for the master; what makes you think it would work for you?"  
  
Spike, rather enjoying the show, was distracted by the sight of four uniformed airport security guards moving in to break up the chick-fight. A brief flash of amused irritation at the thought of the three of them being arrested and taken in for questioning crossed his mind. He leaned in and tried to quietly break up the fight, but Buffy punched him in the eye and Drusilla scratched him across the forehead. In a flash of temper, assisted by the wild euphoria still coursing through his body from Buffy's blood, he grabbed up the fallen stake and pointed it at the fighting women, going back and forth as he said to himself, "Eenie, meenie, miny, moe!" He closed his eyes and shoved the stake blindly into the fray.  
  
A collective gasp from the onlookers made him open his eyes to see Buffy staring at him in shock, covered with ashes. Dru's ashes. He had loved Drusilla deeply, and now she was dead by his hand.  
  
He shrugged. Oh, well. Her psychotic ramblings had been starting to annoy him, even before her affair with Angel. He leaned forward and grabbed the slayer's hand. "Come on," he ordered, heaving her up--  
  
--and over his head to land ten feet behind him, with a thud!  
  
"What the -- " he said. Buffy gaped at him, then took off running. He took off after her.  
  
Side by side, they ran through the seemingly endless corridors of the airport, until quick as a thought, Buffy jumped into a side corridor. Spike followed. They ran halfway down the corridor until she got to a utility closet. She ducked into it and pulled Spike after her. Her breathing sounded loud in the close stillness, pointing a contrast to his lack of it.  
  
"Well this is a familiar scenario," Spike commented dryly. The closet was no bigger than the plane's bathroom had been.  
  
"Shut up!" Buffy hissed, listening to the running footsteps outside. She sighed in relief when they passed the closet without slowing down. She sat down on the edge of the custodial sink and looked up at him. His pale hair gleamed in the dim light coming from under the door.  
  
Part 6  
  
Suddenly the irony of the situation, coupled with her shock and stress from the past few days, hit her and she had to stifle a laugh. "So what do we do now?" she asked, more to the air than to him.  
  
"Dunno. How are you at making small talk with vampires?" he offered.  
  
"Better than my mom, I hope!" she retorted. He chuckled. Silence fell. She broke it after a moment. "So you like Billy Idol?"  
  
"Not really. Just the hair." said Spike. He was starting to calm down and get his head under control again. More silence. He broke it this time. "So, what are we going to do? I mean, this wasn't exactly how I'd planned to arrive in New York."  
  
"Why did you kill Drusilla?" she asked abruptly.  
  
He shrugged, a motion better felt than seen in the darkness. "It was a 50- 50 chance," he said. "Why did you kill Angel?"  
  
"To save the world." She replied, making her voice hard to mask its trembling.  
  
"Right, and I did in Dru because, quite frankly, she'd begun to bore me. But you and I had a deal that centered on Dru, and under the circumstances, I think all deals are off, don't you?"  
  
"So why are you here with me?" she asked, shifting her weight uneasily. Her eyes had grown accustomed to the dimness and she could better see the angles and planes of his sharp- featured face.  
  
"Well, you pulled me in here," he pointed out. She glared at him. He gave her a quick smirk and then went on. "And neither of us can risk being caught by the goon squad out there."  
  
Buffy nodded; that was true. "So it looks like the truce is still on, huh," she said, disappointed. "For a while, anyway. Darn." Suddenly, footsteps approached the closet. Purposeful ones. Quickly, Spike grabbed Buffy's black watch cap and put it on, hiding his telltale platinum hair. Just as the door opened, Buffy grabbed him and firmly planted her lips on his.  
  
Part 7  
  
"Hey, what's going on here?" asked the janitor, flicking the light on.  
  
Buffy jumped, acting startled. Spike put his arm around her and told him, "What's it look like? She just got home and I wanted to give her a proper welcome, didn't I?"  
  
The janitor took in Buffy's untidy hair which had been mussed by the swift removal of the watch cap. He also saw the scratches on her neck, the fatigue in her eyes and the bags under them. "Whoa, major jet lag, it looks like. You better get her home and welcome her there, buddy. After about a week of sleep."  
  
"Good idea," Spike said smoothly. "Come along, luv." He swept her out of the closet and down the corridor. Out of the man's earshot, he asked, "So, what's with the smoochies, pet? You know I don't have a soul to lose."  
  
Buffy winced, then shrugged philosophically. "It worked, didn't it? Besides," she continued with a bleak attempt at humor, "I just sent my boyfriend to hell this morning. Why not kiss a demon tonight? Just to make my day complete."  
  
They wandered down the corridor, following exit signs, until they reached the outside. Then Spike stopped her. "Look, Slayer. We can't go on like this. Yes, dinner was terrific, the entertainment was great, thanks for a lovely evening, but isn't it time to go our separate ways now?"  
  
"Oh, getting hungry again?" she challenged.  
  
He grinned. "Baby, that I'm not! Let me tell you, if I had a regular supply of slayer blood, I might never have to kill again! That stuff works wonders!"  
  
She stared with dawning comprehension. "Is that what made you so strong? I mean, I know it's manly to throw around slayers, but you were as surprised as I was. Weren't you?"  
  
He shrugged. "It was quite a high," he admitted.  
  
"Oh, great," Buffy muttered. "On top of everything else, I've come to New York with a lifetime supply of vampire crack. Travelling with a vampire, no less. Can things get any worse?"  
  
They heard pounding feet. "Never, never ask that," Spike said, suddenly grabbing her hand and fleeing from the approaching cops. They ran and ran, not keeping track of street names or anything, until they no longer heard the footsteps behind them. Spike suddenly realized something. "Oh, sod!" he cursed with rising panic and frustration. "I forgot the time difference!"  
  
"What..? Oh!" Buffy recognized where his fear came from. "Dawn is three hours earlier here, isn't it?"  
  
"I've got to get below!" he yelled, taking off. She ran after him, suddenly not wanting to lose touch with the one familiar thing in this strange town, even if it was a demon. She came upon him wrestling with a manhole cover, not quite managing to lift it.  
  
"No, wait. I have an idea," she said. "Come with me." She took off again at a fast walk.  
  
Spike cursed his stupidity in choosing to follow her instead of still trying to get into the sewers. "Fine, luv, but no walks down sunny garden paths, right? I'm a bit pale, and I just know I'd get sunburned."  
  
Buffy whistled for a cab, and they both got in. "96 Morton," she ordered.  
  
Spike whistled and then started to smile. "I'd forgotten you could do that!"  
  
The cab deposited them on a street full of large brick buildings; they ran up the street, finally darting towards one with stone lions flanking the steps.  
  
"Quick! In here! Help me!" she said, trying to force open a small side door. With their combined strength, the lock groaningly gave way, and they sneaked in and closed the door behind them.  
  
"Oh, God, where are we? It smells like that blasted library of yours," Spike complained.  
  
"It is. I mean, the New York City Library," she replied. "No one will find us here, trust me. Giles told me, it's full of people mostly just like him. No one's going to lift his nose out of a book long enough to notice a couple of well, of whatever we are," she finished lamely. "And by the time it's closed, it will be dark."  
  
"Fine, well, I'll tell you, I don't fancy the idea of both of us being in this city at the same time, with you hunting me down in the daylight." Spike stated uncomfortably as they headed toward the basement.  
  
"Well, I think you should know I'm not exactly keen on the thought of you coming after me in the middle of the night, either," she retorted. "In fact, given the choice, I'd rather have you where I can keep an eye on you!"  
  
"Likewise, luv," he practically spat the word out. "Just don't get in my way when I feed!"  
  
"You're not killing anybody as long as I'm around!" she yelled back at him.  
  
"Well, I won't have to when you're around, will I?" his rejoinder sped out his mouth without stopping at his brain.  
  
"What did you just say?" Buffy asked, suddenly very quiet.  
  
"What did I just say?" he asked himself, as astonished as she.  
  
"Um, Spike?" she asked in a tremulous voice. "How much slayer blood would constitute a 'regular supply?'"  
  
Part 8  
  
A week later, in Sunnydale, Rupert Giles picked up his mail. He noticed Buffy's handwriting on one envelope and dropped the rest of them.  
  
"Dear Giles," [the letter read]  
  
I hope that you, Willow, Xander, and even Cordelia are all well, and survived the ordeal. Angel did not. I almost didn't make it either. Sometimes I wish I hadn't.  
  
By now you must know that my mom knows. Wish you could have seen her polite conversation with Spike! But I told her to go to you with questions, and I hope you gave her honest answers.   
  
I wish I could have saved you the pain of what Angel did to you. I'm so sorry, Giles, I only hope I can make it up to you someday. I also wish I could have seen the look on Angel's face when you told him to do the ritual in a tutu! But as it is, the only memory I have of Angel's face is the pain and betrayal when I impaled him with that sword. Oh, yes. Tell Willow the spell worked.  
  
I wish I could see all of you again, but I don't think that will happen. You'd be proud of me though, Giles. I'm actually reading a lot more, and although I'm no longer slaying (aren't many vamps here) I am faithfully saving at least one life a night.  
  
How do you like the pretty world I saved for you?  
  
Love, Buffy  
  
Part 9  
  
Giles spasmodically clenched the letter in his hand, then turned suddenly and ran back into the house. To the telephone. He dialed the Summers' number. "Hello? Joyce? This is Giles. I just got a letter from Buffy! Yes, yes, come over by all means. I just need to call - I just need to make a couple more calls first. Yes, yes, do please hurry."  
  
He dialed again. "Willow? It's Giles. I've heard from Buffy; she sends her greetings and says she's all right. No, she didn't tell where she was, but the letter is postmarked from -- " he checked it. "From New York?! Damn and blast! What on earth is she doing there? Oh? Oh, sorry. Yes, please do let Xander know. Thank you. Uh, goodbye."  
  
Giles showed the letter to Joyce, to Willow, to Xander, to Cordelia, and even to Oz. He wasn't quite sure how any of them were going to take it, especially since there were new interpersonal dynamics among the teenagers. He attributed that to Buffy's absence, and ignored it.  
  
"But, but, you mean the ritual worked? And then she stabbed him? How can that be?" Willow wondered aloud.  
  
"It must have already opened, then. Right?" Xander asked. "So she knew the only way to close it was to" his shook his head. "Oh, man. Poor Buffy!" Xander spoke again after a minute. "One thing I'm not quite sure about. Giles, who was with you when Angel was doing his pain-and-death number?"  
  
"No - no one. Why?" Giles asked.  
  
"Did you say that thing to Angel, about a tutu?"  
  
"Well, I don't know. I suppose I did. I wanted to get him off balance."  
  
"But Giles, how did Buffy know about that little conversation?"  
  
Giles started. "I have no idea!" he said. He thought for a moment, then said, "Spike. Buffy mentioned Spike in her letter. Perhaps he spoke to her..? I recall he was there in the next room when Angel was having his fun. He, uh, made some comment about not wanting Angel to kill me because he didn't want to spend the next month trying to get librarian out of the carpet." He chuckled, then quickly turned it into a cough when Willow and Xander both looked at him with their "Ew!" faces on. "Uh, yes. Perhaps there was some sort of, I don't know alliance?" He looked up. The "Ew!" faces were still in full force. He gave up.  
  
Part 10  
  
The next day, he accosted Willow in the hallway. "Can you come to the library at lunch? Please. It's frightfully important." When she walked in at noon, he practically pounced on her and dragged her to the computer. "Willow, Jenny once told me of a monk who was knowledgeable about the hellmouth, and who would send out global mailings to people -- "  
  
"Oh, you mean Brother Luka?" she asked brightly. "What about him?"  
  
"Uh, I mean, well, can you contact him?" Giles asked. "I thought he had gone into some sort of computer underground, or something. Can you talk to him?"  
  
"Sure. I can just email him. He came out from underground when the master died. What do you want the message to say?"  
  
"Well, I mean, is there any way I can type it in myself?" Giles asked uncomfortably. He was as good as telling Willow he didn't trust her.  
  
She blinked in surprise. "I guess so. I'll set it up for you, then you can just type it in and then move this pointer to here," she showed him how to move the mouse, "and click this button down once. It should go right to him. Here." She set up the email, then quickly, before Giles could see what she was doing, she activated her "sent-mail" option. "All ready!" she said, a little too brightly. "Just click this button to log me out when you're finished. I have to get to class."  
  
Willow returned later in the day to check her e-mail, and to find out what Giles had sent to Brother Luka. Feeling only slightly guilty, she logged in and opened her sent-mail folder. Her eyes got bigger and bigger as she read. Finished, she went back to the mailbox to read Luka's reply. "Giles!" she squeaked, sounding strangled. He appeared, alarmed, from behind the stacks. "Giles, I'm nosy, I know I am, I'm sorry, and I hope you can forgive me," she said all in one breath. He looked perplexed, then looked at the screen and understood.  
  
"You looked at the letter I sent the monk," he realized.  
  
She nodded. "Yes, I'm sorry. But that's not all. I also looked at what he sent back to you. It might be possible, he says. It might be possible!"  
  
Giles' shoulders, which had been creeping up toward his ears, relaxed. "It - it is?" he asked shakily.  
  
Willow nodded eagerly. "Yes, it's possible, but you need my help." she said with certainty. He started to protest, but she went on speaking. "Listen! Miss Calendar's files had some information on this! I think she had been researching the same thing, at least, before the judge came: how to give a vampire with a human soul a human body as well only, without the part about the vampire's being in hell," she finished uncertainly.  
  
"I, well yes, that part does seem to pose the difficulty," he admitted. "Uh, may I see the letter he sent you?"  
  
Later that night, Giles brewed himself a pot of tea and sat down with a large mug. He reached toward the telephone, then hesitated. He stared at it, took a sip of tea as if to strengthen himself, then picked up the phone and dialed the number he'd scribbled down earlier.  
  
"Uh, hello? I'd like to speak to Father Joseph, please. Oh, hello, sir. My name is Rupert Giles. I was, uh, given your name by a Brother Luka; he said you might be able to help with a certain project that I've been researching. Can I come and see you at some point? Tomorrow? Yes, thank you, that will be fine. Uh, goodbye and thank you."  
  
Part 11  
  
The next day after school, Giles walked into St. Stephen's. The priest, an average height, somewhat stocky black man, saw him and smiled. "Mr. Giles?" he asked, approaching with his hand outstretched.  
  
Giles took it. "It's kind of you to see me, Father Joseph."  
  
"Please, it's Joe to you. Anyone that Luka sends me is a friend already. Might I call you Rupert?"  
  
Giles coughed. "Actually, my companions usually just call me Giles. You are welcome to do that as well."  
  
"Fine. So, Giles, come into the study with me - would you like a cup of tea? Milk, no sugar? Right. - and sit down. So what's this project all about?"  
  
Giles removed his glasses and began compulsively cleaning them. He cleared his throat. "Well, uh, first of all, how much do you know about vampires?" he asked bluntly.  
  
Joe's eyebrows shot up. "More than you'd think, actually," he said guardedly. "One of the _boca del infierno_ fringe benefits, I guess. Why?"  
  
"Well, have you ever heard of a vampire called Angelus?"  
  
The priest was even more wary. "Yes," he said shortly. "Go on."  
  
Giles explained in detail what had happened to Angel regarding the gypsy curse and its loophole. He felt a little as if he were betraying Buffy's trust, but he never mentioned her name, or that she was the slayer. He explained what he thought Angel's ultimate fate had been, at Buffy's hands. At the end of the story, Joe sat still, regarding Giles with unreadable dark eyes.  
  
"So that's your project?" he finally asked. "Getting the nice vampire out of hell and making him human again?"  
  
Giles flushed to hear his goal referred to in such a cavalier manner. "In a nutshell, yes." He leaned forward. "Do you think you can help me, or not? Luka thought you might, but if not then I'll just leave now and not bother you again."  
  
Joe's sudden broad smile lit up his face. "Relax, Giles. I might be able to help. I'm sorry, but I was sort of testing you. I had to find out how much you knew, and how serious you were. I apologize." Giles leaned back in relief. "Yes, I'll try to help. I'll have to get back to you in a couple of days, though. Where can I reach you?"  
  
Giles wrote down his home phone and the number at the library and handed Joe the paper. "If there's anything I can do..." he offered.  
  
Joe grinned. "Don't worry. There will be! I'll be in touch in a few days, and I'll talk to you then."  
  
Giles left the church with a feeling he thought he had lost forever: hope. After he left, Joe crossed himself and turned his attention skywards. "All right, God, You heard the whole thing." he said, "And Lord, if Angel has even a slim chance of regaining his humanity, please show us the way! You know he's like a son to me, and I'd really like to be able to invite him over for dinner. Without becoming it, that is." He shook his head with a sad smile and went back to his study.  
  
Exactly three days later, Xander and Willow were eating lunch in the library with Cordelia and Oz, when Giles' phone rang. He jumped up to answer it, and a moment later stuck his head out. "Uh, Willow? May I see you for a moment?" She bounced up and went into his office. "Willow, this is that Father Joe that Luka referred me to. Do you think you can meet with us tonight at St. Stephen's? Joe thinks there's a chance for success, but we may need your help."  
  
"Uh, sure," Willow said. Giles finished and hung up. She asked, "Giles, do you think we can tell the others yet?"  
  
He gazed at her sympathetically. "No, I think, um, best not. If it works they'll find out then. If it doesn't, why raise their hopes?" She nodded reluctantly and joined the others.  
  
Part 12  
  
Buffy and Spike both slept all day after their escape into the library. They had sneaked into the basement, curled up behind the water heater tanks and slept the sleep of the exhausted. Buffy woke first, in the twilight dimness from the one basement window. She got out her one remaining stake and approached Spike stealthily. She got almost within striking range and then stopped. Her hand faltered and she put the stake back into her sleeve and sighed.  
  
Spike opened his eyes. "Evening, cutie," he said. "What's up? Why not slay me when you had the chance?"  
  
"How - how did you know?" she asked.  
  
"Been awake since before sunset; it just takes a while for the daytime lethargy to wear off. So what are we doing tonight?" Spike stretched and yawned.  
  
Buffy shrugged. "How about finding a better place than this?"  
  
In a separate part of the cellar was a room that didn't have a window. What it did have was two couches, a table with four chairs, a hot plate and microwave, and (a discovery that elicited a long appreciative whistle from Spike) a hidden stash of hypodermic needles.  
  
"All right! This will make things a lot easier!" he crowed.  
  
If Buffy was disturbed at the thought of some library employee having these on hand; she was horrified at what Spike's plans for them were. "Yes; for you, maybe!"  
  
"Of course. What else?" he asked, surprised at her retort. "Oh, yeah. That. Well, sorry, but I'm not the sensitive, caring, always-think-of-you-first sort of vampire; for which, by the way, you should be glad." He grinned maliciously. "I've heard that kind can turn on you." Her swift roundhouse kick to his head told him that his remarks were not fully appreciated. He laughed, and punched her in the face. She kicked him in the stomach, knocking him to the floor. "Oh, baby likes to play!" he said, rolling to his feet again. He knocked aside her next punch to his head, and tripped her so she fell backwards over the table. He jumped towards her, pinning her shoulders down on the table and leaning over her. His attention was distracted by the way her white tank top clung to her body which was sweaty from the fight, and he laughed again. "I could learn to like this, luv."  
  
"Oh, yeah? How about if you learn to like this!" and Buffy cracked his head with her own, then followed with a swift kick to the crotch, finishing with flipping him backwards over the table so he landed half on the couch, half on the floor.  
  
He groaned. "This, I'm not so fond of," he admitted, clutching himself and slouching to the floor in a fetal position. It was almost more embarrassing than painful: someone who has wreaked murder and mayhem for two centuries, struck terror into the hearts of men, destroyed and tortured whole villages, being totally debilitated by a simple kick to the nuts.  
  
Another week found them settled in to stay in the old lounge; apparently, (Buffy discovered by listening to the employees' conversation during the day sometimes) there was a new staff lounge upstairs that everyone used, which left the one in the basement almost totally forgotten about. Buffy, having written to Giles the day before - a mercurial, moody letter just to let him know she was all right, and carefully avoiding mentioning her present "arrangements," felt a load off her mind and slept a few minutes later than usual.  
  
She awoke to see Spike leaning against the wall adjacent to her couch, watching her. She felt a creepy feeling go up and down her spine. Usually she awoke before he did, and usually spent the time until he woke up watching him and asking herself why she didn't plunge a stake into his heart while he slept. It was chilling to discover he had the same sort of habit.  
  
For the umpteenth time, she wondered why she was doing this, why he was doing this. It couldn't have been any more fun for him than for her, always going around expecting to be attacked by his roommate, not going out much, having to spend all his time, like her, with a hated enemy. Why hadn't they killed each other yet? It was a constant question in her mind, so she asked it. "Why didn't you kill me?"  
  
"What, and cut off my supply?" he asked with a wounded expression. "Listen, Slayer, I would never do that to you - well, to me, actually. Hey, let's go out tonight. I'm dying for a -"  
  
" - bite?"  
  
" - change of scenery."  
  
Later that night, sitting next to Spike in the movie theatre and watching the latest James Bond flick, she reflected that, strange as her life had been before, it couldn't possibly compare with her life now.  
  
And their mid-day conversations in the lounge, when neither of them could sleep, were nothing short of bizarre.  
  
"Spike?"  
  
"Mmm?"  
  
"What's it like when you feed?"  
  
"It's the biggest power trip in the world. Better than anything else that I've tried. Positively orgasmic!"  
  
"Oh," Buffy said, blushing.  
  
Spike cocked an eye at her, grinning. "Why, you curious? I could show you, if you like!"  
  
"Nono thanks!" Buffy backpedaled. She let the silence fill the air for a moment, then asked him, "What were you like before you were a vampire?"  
  
He replied quickly. "Pretty much the action-packed, fun-loving guy I am today. Only without the killing part." There was a pause. "So what were you like before you were the slayer?"  
  
Buffy's reply was succinct. "Cordelia."  
  
"Oh, God!"  
  
Part 13  
  
Giles pulled up to Willow's house where she waited for him on the porch; a shadow disentangled from the other shadows. Silently they drove to the church. Joe was waiting for them in his study. Giles performed the introductions and they sat down.  
  
Joe began the discussion. "Well. It seems we have a vampire with a soul, who's in hell. We want him out of hell, and we want him human. So how do we do it?"  
  
"I could give you some of Miss Calendar's research," Willow offered.  
  
"Janna, the gypsy woman?" Joe asked in surprise. "You have her files?"  
  
"All of them. On the computer. Um, she and Giles were are sort of my mentors." She blushed. "I mean, she was. He still is. And I - we miss her."  
  
"Yes, I heard about her death. I'm sorry." Joe said. "I also knew about her 'assignment' regarding Angelus. I'm sorry it came to this."  
  
Giles was still half-wincing from the pain of Jenny's memory and half- pleased by being called Willow's mentor. He shook his head. "Do you think you might know of a way to accomplish what we seek?"  
  
Joe's answering smile was brilliant and warm. "Look who my boss is!" he joked. "I've been trained to believe anything is possible. Even miracles! Yes, I know of a way that might work." He leaned forward, the small talk obviously over. "First of all, this vampire has a soul. Second thing, he has a body. Problem: hell is eternal torment in the shape of fire, and vampires burn. Therefore, if he's in hell, it's just his soul that's in torment because his body is long gone. Hey, don't panic!" he said, looking at Willow's frightened face. "That just means he needs a new body. And that, my friends, is what I think we might need from Janna's files."  
  
"You mean how to get a vampire body?" She asked.  
  
"No, no. His vampire body is gone. Now he needs a human body, my dear, to house his human soul."  
  
Willow's lip curled a little in disgust. "This isn't going to involve any cutting and pasting, is it? I mean, 'cause we've seen that before, and just - ew."  
  
Joe shook his head and wondered just what sort of girl this was. She seemed so innocent, and yet must have seen death - a lot of it, if she was familiar with the Angel story. He shelved that thought for a later date.  
  
"No slice and dice, I promise you." He smiled gently. "Now: Willow, I would like you to peruse Janna - uh, Jenny's files and see what you can find about providing a human body for the new soul. Giles, you work on the 'getting him out of hell' problem. Read up on hell, purgatory, that sort of thing. We have to make sure there aren't any more loopholes."  
  
"I thought the religious angle was more your territory," said Giles. "What do you plan to do?"  
  
"Fast and pray," stated the priest matter-of-factly.

Two days later, Willow tore into the library as if ten vampires were at her heels. "Giles! I've found it!" she cried, triumphantly waving a computer disk over her head. "It's the file on how to get a body!"  
  
Xander, who had witnessed Willow's mad dash from her classroom down to the library and been curious, entered quietly behind her just in time to hear what she said. "Ugh! Tell me you're not having a Chris flashback!"  
  
Willow whirled in shock. "Oh, um, Xander!"  
  
"Ah, I knew you'd remember. So what's with the body? Haven't we already been there?"  
  
"Oh nothing. Right?" she looked to Giles for support. "It's just about a book I was reading for um, for anatomy class."  
  
"Riiight," Xander said suspiciously. "So let's see what's on that disk!"  
  
Giles and Willow exchanged glances, and he nodded almost imperceptibly. They knew they couldn't have kept it secret forever. Sighing, she popped in the disk and opened up that window on the computer. The file's contents scrolled up the screen, and Giles almost whistled in astonishment.  
  
Part 14  
  
"So that's it! Of course!" he said, as if to himself. "It's so terribly simple that no one would ever think of it!"  
  
Willow was also fascinated. "Look at the chemical compounds," she murmured. "Not a single one of them is rare, or hard to find"  
  
Xander was perplexed. "Look, could someone please explain to the layman exactly what is going on?"  
  
They ignored him. "I can get the necessary chemicals, if you can find someone to do the actual forming," Willow said to Giles. "It's mostly just earth and water mixed together with a few trace minerals."  
  
"Clay." He stated. He started to smile, and removed his glasses to clean them. "It's so amazing, yet so simple -"  
  
"Hey! Guys! What is going on?"  
  
Willow gave him her sweetest smile. He was a dear friend and she hated keeping him in the dark, but she didn't want to take the time to explain it to him and listen to his protests when the end of their goal was finally in sight - as soon as she got to the science lab. "We're playing God," she said. "Nothing to worry about." She exited the library, paying no attention to Xander's incoherent sputters of protest.  
  
"Fine, go! I guess I didn't want to know anyway!" he said loudly. "I'll just go off by myself (with Cordelia, he added silently) and have fun because your little secret means nothing to me!"  
  
"Excellent idea, Mr. Harris," said Giles absently, nose buried in a book.  
  
Xander snorted and stalked out.  
  
Part 15  
  
Willow, failing to find what she was looking for in the science lab, went to the art room. It was empty, and the afternoon sunlight streamed through the window illuminating a classical- style bust that was sitting on one of the work tables. Willow, curious, approached, then stopped dead. It was of Xander! Beautifully done, every feature lifelike, it looked as if it were about to crack a bad joke. Who on earth - or in Sunnydale - had this kind of skill? Cautiously, she circled around to the back and beheld the initials scratched into it: "CC." Cordelia Chase.  
  
Willow whirled around and left the room. Her feet made their unerring way towards the supply closet. Without thinking of manners or proprieties, she wrenched the door open. "Hi, guys!" she said brightly, in accompaniment to Cordelia's yell of outrage.  
  
"Willow, what are you doing?" Xander demanded.  
  
"Oh, sorry to interrupt. Cordelia, I need to talk to you." She said.  
  
"And what could be more important than -" Cordelia saw the surprised pleasure on Xander's face and realized what she'd been about to say. Mentally chiding herself, she gave Willow a condescending smile. "Sure, I'd be glad to talk to you, Willow. Anytime!" she added for Xander's benefit.  
  
"Good. Then let's go to the art room and talk." Willow said steadily.  
  
"The art room? What --? Oh, no, I left my statue out!" she wailed.  
  
"What statue?" Xander asked.  
  
"Statue?" Cordelia said brightly. "What statue? There's no statue! Come on, Willow, let's go talk. Girl talk," she said pointedly. They left Xander standing alone in the hallway.  
  
"Why do I feel like no one tells me anything anymore?" he complained to the air.  
  
In the art room, Cordelia busied herself wrapping her unfinished bust of Xander in wet cloths and putting it away. Finished, she sat down heavily on a stool. "Boy, that was a close call."  
  
"Cordelia, can you sculpt someone for me?" Willow asked abruptly.  
  
"Excuse me? Can I do what?"  
  
"Listen, I'm serious. Cordelia. This is important! It's for - well, for something Giles and I are working on. Please, will you do it?"  
  
"Well is it someone I know?" Cordelia wondered.  
  
"Absolutely. And you never know; you might like it!" Briefly, sounding as matter of fact as possible, Willow outlined what she wanted done and why, and then left before Cordelia could recover her razor tongue.  
  
"She's crazy," Cordelia announced to the empty air. "She's nuts." She pondered another moment, then got a glint in her eye. "On the other hand, to make a man from scratch..." She went and got some clay.  
  
Part 16  
  
Willow reported back to Giles at the end of the day. "It's all set; I found our sculptor," she informed him.  
  
"What? Oh, uh, good. I've acquainted Father Joe with our information, so we'll be ready to perform the ceremony as soon as the body is finished. Which reminds me - how soon will the body be finished?"  
  
"All right!" Xander came out abruptly from behind a bookcase. "Listen, you two, I've had it! What is going on that no one is telling me about? What is this with a body, and Cordelia's statue which doesn't exist, and just everything?"  
  
Giles looked at Willow. "Cordelia is the sculptor?"  
  
"Um, yeah, she's all I could find, and -"  
  
"HELLO!" Xander shouted. "I'm having a need-to-know tantrum here! What is going on?"  
  
"Giles, I think we have to tell him now."  
  
"Very well. I guess you're right."  
  
At the end of the briefing, Xander sat back in his chair. "Wow," was all he managed to say for a while. Then, "Are you both crazy?"  
  
"No, Mr. Harris, we are not crazy. It may be a possibility to rescue Angel from hell and give him a human body."  
  
"And we've got a priest to help us and everything!" Willow chirped.  
  
Xander smiled for the first time all day. "What'll your parents say to that?" he teased. "Ira Rosenberg's only daughter consorting with Catholics?"  
  
"But you're okay with the rest of it?" Willow wanted to clear that up.  
  
"It's not really up to me, is it? And anyway, if what we think happened really happened, the guy's in hell. He will have definitely paid his debt to society, even if you guys really do succeed." He swiped Willow's apple and bit into it with a grin. "Not that I think you'll succeed, or anything."  
  
Part 17  
  
Cordelia had been spending much more time in the art room than was her wont. She had cut a deal with her teacher to allow her to work on the full-length supine male in exchange for entering the finished project in the upcoming art contest which, if she won, would bring her teacher great renown and also get Principal Snyder off his back. That was the official deal, but she suspected he just liked her airheaded flirting. Well, he ought to. She'd been honing that skill for years!  
  
After several days of intense work on the head and torso, she hit a snag. Willow, getting ready for bed that night, got a panicked phone call from the budding artist.  
  
"Will, I need to know how to do his, um, lower half." She said.  
  
"Huh?" said Willow.  
  
"I mean, with or without clothes on! How am I supposed to sculpt him below the waist? Can I sort of give him pants? Or maybe a fig leaf??  
  
Willow considered the question seriously. Honestly, she hadn't thought of it before. "Well," she began. "I think the man is going to end up looking like however you sculpt him. If that's the case, then he should probably have all of his all his, um, man parts, don't you think?"  
  
"That's what I was afraid of," moaned Cordelia. "I don't know how to."  
  
"Well, don't you do it the same as you do all the rest of his parts?"  
  
"That's just it!" Cordelia exclaimed. "How can I sculpt things that I don't know what they look like?"  
  
Willow stifled a quick giggle. "You mean, you don't know? You don't mean to say that you're a-"  
  
"Don't even let the word cross your lips, Will! Fine. You're one, I'm one, but do we have to let the whole school know? I didn't think so. So can we move on?"  
  
"You might want to try looking at some famous sculptures by Michaelangelo or someone. Or try Gray's Anatomy?" She offered, feeling suddenly magnanimous... or was that mischievous? "Also, Giles might be able to help."  
  
"EEEWW!" was Cordelia's heartfelt response to that suggestion. "Thanks for the disgusting mental picture right before I go to bed!"  
  
Willow blushed furiously as the picture popped into her own mind. "That wasn't what I meant!  
  
"Yes, well, I think I'll 'consult the books' before I bother Giles with something like this!" Cordelia decided.  
  
Part 18  
  
The finished sculpture, entered in the art contest at the last minute, won second prize. First was an oil painting of a bowl of petunias.  
  
"Oh, no, not again!" wailed Cordelia looking at the red ribbon stretegically decorating her creation. "I always win second and never first!"  
  
Giles raised his eyebrows when he saw the ribbon, suddenly reminded of a bawdy ditty he and his pals had sung in college. "Ach, lad, I don't know where ya been," he murmured, smiling at the memory, then coughed. "Well done, Cordelia. It certainly looks like Angel; that is, what I've seen of Angel."  
  
Willow's comment was ably expressed by her completely round eyes and whispered "I'll never be able to look him in the eye again!"  
  
Early the next morning before dawn, hours after Mrs. Summers had closed up the art gallery where the show had been, Cordelia woke up and yawned. It was just in time; shortly after came a light rap on the door. She got to her feet and stretched, then opened the door. "Come on, it's all set!" she said. The zebra-striped van that had been waiting across the street backed up to the door, and Oz got out and opened the cargo doors.  
  
"So, I'm part of the gang enough for you guys to borrow my van when you need to, but not enough for you to tell me what's going into it?" he asked. "Not that I'm nosy -- I just like to know my place in the world."  
  
Xander got out and patted him on the back. "Don't feel bad. You're in good company; I only found out last week." He shook his head. "Believe me, I'd rather be in ignorance right now! And also asleep."  
  
"Oh, good," Oz commented. "Then I'm the only lucky one here, huh?"  
  
Oz, Xander, and Giles went quietly into the building and gazed at the full- length sculpture swathed in cloth. Giles lifted one corner of the fabric and shined his flashlight onto the face. "Yes, this is it." He said.  
  
"That looks like Angel," said Oz.  
  
"Yeah, it does, doesn't it?" Xander responded with a grin.  
  
"Yes, uh, gentlemen, let's move along, shall we? Time is of the essence." Giles said.  
  
"That's something that's always puzzled me," Oz responded as the three of them heaved the heavy clay onto their shoulders. " 'Time is of the essence.' The essence of what?"  
  
"You've been around Willow too long," Xander groaned.  
  
Part 19  
  
Father Joe was waiting for them in the church beside a table he had set up in front of the altar. "Hey! Come on in!" he greeted cheerfully. He helped them bring in the clay body and lay it gently on the table. He uncovered the face and appraised it. "Wow. I'll have to congratulate the sculptor. It sure looks like him."  
  
Cordelia, following with Willow on the heels of the men, beamed. "Thanks!"  
  
"Now let's get to business. I'll have to ask everyone not involved in the ceremony to wait in my study until it's over, just to avoid distractions." He waited, while no one left. He sighed. "All right. Mr. Giles and Miss Rosenberg may stay."  
  
"What about me?" demanded Cordelia. "I'm involved! I made the body; doesn't that make me totally involved?"  
  
"Self- involved, maybe," muttered Xander.  
  
Joe sighed. "All right, Miss Chase, but not a word." Cordelia donned her best put-upon expression and flounced over to the front row.  
  
Xander and Oz went off together in the direction Joe indicated. Xander paused in the doorway. "How long will this take?" he asked.  
  
"Not long," Joe said. "It'll either work or it won't. Either way it won't be much time." Xander nodded and exited with Oz.  
  
Joe turned to the other two and rubbed his hands. "All right, now let's get to business. Giles, Willow, are you two ready? Good." He lit some candles and brought out some holy water, then carefully placed Giles' orb of Thessula on the chest of the sculpture. He opened his Bible and began to read various passages aloud, while Willow began to translate them simultaneously into Hebrew. "I cried by reason of mine affliction unto the Lord, and he heard me; out of the belly of hell cried I, and He heardest my voice. With authority commandeth He even the evil spirits and they do obey Him. Their sorrows shall be multiplied that hasten after other gods: their drink offerings of blood will I not offer for thou wilt not leave my soul in hell!"  
  
Joe carefully inscribed the sign of the cross on the statue's forehead and its heart, then stood back and raised his face toward heaven. His stance was formal, hands clasped behind his back, and his expression was serious; his prayer, however, was as usual startlingly informal. "God, we have a problem here. You're all-knowing, so you know what it is, but for the sake of our own sense of ritual, let me recap."  
  
Part 20  
  
In Joe's study Xander and Oz sat quietly. Xander glanced around whistling under his breath. Their situation, had they only known, was quite similar to Mrs. Summers and Spike, only a few weeks before. Xander opened his mouth to say something, but --  
  
"I heard it, you know," Oz said.  
  
"You heard what? The ceremony?" Xander asked.  
  
"No. What you said to Willow."  
  
"What? Who? Me? I've said a lot of things to Willow." Xander grinned nervously, a grin he had perfected at the end of his act in the talent show the previous fall.  
  
"You know what I mean." Oz said evenly. "I just wanted you to know that I heard you. And sometime later, we're all going to have to deal with it."  
  
"Yeah, deal with it. Right." Xander said. "Oh, goody."  
  
Meanwhile, Joe was going on with his prayer. "You see, Father, we're asking you to deliver Angelus' human soul from hell and breathe life into this body for him to inhabit. It was one girl's love for mankind and for this world that you created that sent him to hell in the first place. We would like you to please get him out. And Lord, please give us a sign; preferably one with thunder. Thanks. Amen."  
  
He glanced at Giles, who looked puzzled and asked, "Wh-why thunder?"  
  
Joe shrugged. "I like thunder. And it's traditional." He grinned. "Your turn."  
  
Giles read aloud, "And the Lord God formed man out of the dust of the ground, and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life, and man became a living soul."  
  
Just as he finished reading, Joe blew out the candles. They all staggered back as a clap of thunder made their ears ring and lightning arced through the church, striking the orb. It gave out a sudden, blinding light, echoed by the light glowing in the eyes of the statue as its features shifted and changed, slowly becoming alive. The light faded and the orb went dark.  
  
Part 21  
  
The first streaks of dawn were coming in the stained-glass window, striking the face of the living man lying on the table, making him open his eyes for the first time.  
  
He blinked his eyes a few times, saw Giles, Joe, and Willow standing by smiling - and he burst into tears. Racking sobs shook his body as he rolled onto his side into a fetal position. He cried and cried, not noticing when Willow and Cordelia sidled out together uncomfortably, heading towards Joe's study.  
  
It was a small but comfortable room, somewhat reminiscent of the library. It held a plain wooden desk on one side, a couch opposite it, and two armchairs. Every wall was lined with bookshelves, and every shelf was covered with books.  
  
Xander sprawled in an overstuffed chair, while Oz spread himself out on the couch. When the door opened, Xander leaped to his feet and Oz sat up straight, self-consciously brushing off the couch where his shoes had rested. Both relaxed when they saw who it was.  
  
"Hey, what happened?" asked Xander.  
  
"It worked. At least," Willow replied, "I think it did."  
  
"The sculpture sort of woke up and came alive. It did look like Angel," Cordelia said. She sat down heavily on the couch.  
  
"Yeah," Willow put in. "The only problem was, it didn't act much like Angel."  
  
"What did it do?" asked Oz after a pause, when it had become clear that no more information was forthcoming.  
  
"It started crying." answered Willow, going to sit on the arm of the couch near him. "Hard."  
  
"And then we left," Cordelia said. "I have no idea what's going on up there now. I just didn't feel like staying. Do you think we did the wrong thing?"  
  
"I don't know." Willow responded. "I guess I kinda feel like he would want his privacy, or something."  
  
No one said anything after that. The teenagers sat brooding for what seemed like hours, until Giles opened the door. They all jumped to their feet, asking questions, which he ignored. "Please, quiet down, all of you! Yes, the ceremony worked, Angel is human again, and I'll tell you all about it on the way home. Shall we go?"  
  
Part 22  
  
Late the next night, as he had arranged, Giles heard a knock on the door. He opened it holding Buffy's letter. He took in the dark stranger lurking in the shadows; then, unexpectedly, handed him the letter. "Here. You have the right to see this now."  
  
The man in the doorway hesitated, then took the letter. "Will I want to read it?" he asked in a low voice.  
  
"I didn't say you would like it." Giles said a little sharply. "I said you had the right to see it."  
  
The man acknowledged this with a shrug and a half-smile. "Well, Giles? Aren't you going to invite me in?"  
  
Giles looked keenly at him. "No. Call it a test."  
  
The man laughed without mirth, and calmly walked into the room. Giles' eyebrows twitched. "Neat trick, huh?" the man said. "I can also cross running water, wear silver, go to church, all kinds of fun stuff. But you know what's best of all? I no longer have this weird compulsion to pick up every grain of rice after a wedding!" He gave a self-deprecating grin as Giles was startled into a short laugh.  
  
The man glanced around the room to his reflection in the mirror. "Ah, that's the best of all," he said contentedly. "Well," he considered, "that and lobster, with a light wine. Taken at noon. Outdoors. And look! I got a little sun today!" He held out his arm and almost chortled.  
  
Giles smiled, convinced. He offered his hand to the young man, who took it in a firm grip. "Giles, I owe you my life," he stated evenly. "Tell me how I can thank you?"  
  
Giles had had his answer ready for a long while. "You can go find my slayer and bring her home." The man looked puzzled, and Giles gestured toward the piece of paper in his hand. "Read the letter."  
  
The dark-haired man sat down and brought the lamp closer. He read the letter silently, then read it again. He folded it up and somberly handed it back. "I'll do it." He said.  
  
"I knew you would," said Giles. "Thank you, Angel."  
  
"No, not that." The said man impatiently. "Didn't you and the priest tell me that this was my chance for a fresh start? My name's Adam. It means 'made of clay.' 'Angel' seems a bit pretentious now, but I can certainly qualify for 'made of clay.'" He flashed his trademark half-smile.  
  
"Adam, then. It fits. How much do you remember?"  
  
"I remember everything," Adam said bleakly. "I remember Jenny Calendar, and Drusilla, and almost killing Buffy, and - yeah, I remember it all.  
  
"I also remember waking up in that church looking up at you and Joe. The nearest I've ever been to heaven was waking up then, with the sun in my face." He fell silent and expressionless.  
  
Giles said softly, "Yes, I remember." Angel - no, Adam, he corrected himself, had awakened lying in full sunlight, and had started sobbing as if his heart would break. This time he had had no merciful spell of amnesia to dull the pain. He'd been like a newborn baby, only laden with the guilt of centuries. Father Joe had baptized him right away, to cleanse him from original sign, and had christened him "Adam Christian Angelus." "Christian" was to keep him safe from evil; "Angelus" was because, although his past was forgiven, it would remain part of his personality; and "Adam" to show that he was just as human as everyone else, made from dust and clay.  
  
Giles came out of his reverie and said again, "It fits."  
  
Both men were silent for a moment, then Adam stirred. "So where is she?" he asked.  
  
"I really don't know. The letter was postmarked from New York, but letters from some of the surrounding towns go through that post office, so -" Giles left the statement hanging.  
  
"Don't worry about it. I can find her," Adam said confidently.  
  
"There's more," Giles said. He removed his glasses and wiped off a lens. "We think she may have, uh, had some dealings with Spike. He is mentioned in the letter, and also there was the um, the tutu incident." He blushed, then swallowed and continued. "Apparently, Buffy and Spike had collaborated on a plan to ruin your-uh, I mean Angel's scheme and kill you. Him. I asked Buffy's mother about it, you see."  
  
"I remember," Adam said, absently rubbing the back of his skull. "He came after me with a crowbar. And you don't have to refer to me in the third person. I am Adam now, but Angel is still with me." He looked up with a twinkle in his eye. "The tutu line was pretty good," he admitted.  
  
"Yes, I was rather proud of that at the moment." Giles said, slightly discomfited that Adam remembered even that. "Actually, I would rather like to forget that moment, if you don't mind - as you should."  
  
Adam nodded, his dark eyes preoccupied. He stood to leave. "Thank you, Giles. And don't worry. I'll find her."  
  
Part 23  
  
Buffy's nights were slowly blending into one another. She got into a routine: wake up, contemplate killing Spike, then put down the stake and wonder why she didn't stake him. Get a needle, drain off a little blood, fill a shot glass and put it on the table. Pour herself some cereal. The crinkle of the cereal bag always woke up Spike, who would crawl to the table bleary-eyed and pound down the shot of slayer blood. After that, he would be cheerful and as full of life as the undead can be.  
  
Then they'd go out, usually go somewhere different each night, always ending up at the park. Spike, because of a century-old habit of robbing his victims, had plenty of money to spend so they spent. They went out for Chinese (Buffy ate, while Spike drank tea and eyed the waitress), they went to see the Statue of Liberty, the stores - and then they went to Central Park.  
  
This became their favorite haunt. It started the first night they went there, when Spike had wanted to kill a street person and Buffy hadn't let him. They had been arguing about it, yelling at each other nose to nose, when they were interrupted by a gang of three hulking tough kids that reminded Buffy of Larry. Two had knives and one carried a baseball bat.  
  
"You're trespassing on our property," the leader sneered. He was missing a front tooth. "But I'll let you off this time, if you pay me the fine!"  
  
Buffy, incredulous, said, "You have GOT to be kidding!" She glanced at Spike. "You want to take it, or shall I?"  
  
"I got it," he said. He calmly told the kids, "First of all, this has just become our turf, not yours. Second, you're not nearly intimidating enough to pull off something like this, and third -" his face morphed into vampire guise, "-- I am!"  
  
They began to back away slowly. "What are you?" asked one.  
  
"Hungry!" Spike answered with a toothy, monster's grin. They ran. Spike's face switched back to human, and looked disappointed. "Bugger," he said quietly. "I was feeling a little peckish!" Buffy just glared at him.  
  
Another night they went to see "6 Days, 7 Nights." Buffy always enjoyed a nice, uninterrupted ogle at Harrison Ford, whom she decided was aging quite well, and she was just sitting there enjoying the movie when she felt Spike's arm creeping around her shoulders. She shot him her usual glare, and he smiled at her in a way that decades of women must have told him made him look especially cute and innocent.  
  
"What are you doing?" she hissed.  
  
"Just flirting," he said. He saw her face and chuckled. "With death, it looks like."  
  
Buffy advised him in a furious whisper to keep his filthy undead hands to himself, to which he responded with a wounded look. "My undead hands are clean," he defended himself. "Literally, I've washed them. Metaphorically, I haven't taken a life in weeks!"  
  
Buffy still glared. "What about Drusilla?"  
  
He shrugged. In actuality, the memory of his dearly departed raven-haired raving whacko had begun to fade. In fact, he was finding the slayer much more entertaining to live with than Dru had ever been. True, he missed living blood - sometimes, that is; he neglected to tell Buffy about the wino he'd fed lightly from a few nights earlier. After all, he hadn't killed the man, so why worry the slayer needlessly? -- but by and large, he was forced to admit, his life was much more interesting now. He didn't always have to walk on eggshells like he'd had to do with Dru; the slayer was certainly strong enough to take anything he could dish out!  
  
Plus it gave him a heightened sense of well-being, knowing how close she came to staking him every evening when she woke up. He always woke before she did, and lay there waiting to see if this would be the night. He'd be ready if she ever did strike, but she hadn't yet. He glanced at the diminutive but fierce-looking blonde beside him and whispered, "I don't count Drusilla. Do you?"  
  
Buffy looked at him oddly and turned her attention back to the movie, carefully ignoring his arm still around her.  
  
What on earth was he playing at, she wondered. Was he planning to attack her in the cinema? Or was he just leaning close for the kill? Was this some new sort of power play, trying to get her off guard? That was it, she decided. He just wanted the upper hand. She smiled grimly. If this was the game he wanted to play, she could play it too. And come out ahead.  
  
Part 24  
  
The next night they walked through the park again, and as usual, got attacked. This time, it was by a guy alone, who seemed badly in need of his next drink. The huge pimply-faced thug walked up to them fearlessly, evidently thinking that the petite blonde and her slender companion looked like easy marks.  
  
"What do we have here?" Alcohol fumes drifted through the air as he spoke. "Looks like a slutty little cheerleader and her skinny little boyfriend. Let me have your money and I might let you live!"  
  
Spike bristled about being called little; he asked Buffy, "Come on, let me kill him! Just a little!"  
  
"No, Spike," Buffy said reluctantly. "I think I really want to beat this one up and hurt him. Just a little."  
  
The guy laughed. "Little girl, if your limey boyfriend is too much of a pussy to take me on, what makes you think you could?"  
  
Buffy shook her head in wonder at the man's stupidity. "Listen, you medieval-minded moron, he's more of a man than you'll ever be!" The guy swung at her. She ducked, and came up grinning.  
  
The guy never had a chance. A few seconds later he was bruised, crouching on the ground with blood coming from his nose. "Lucky shot," he growled. "Bitch!"  
  
"You know, I would not say such things if I were you," Spike remarked conversationally. He could smell the guy's dripping blood and it was driving him crazy. He looked pleadingly at the slayer. "Can I please hurt him now?"  
  
"Just don't kill him," Buffy said. "Remember our deal?" He nodded. She grinned mischievously, running her hands through her hair. "But if you want to bite him, I can look away." She turned her back.  
  
Spike fell upon the guy. A few minutes later, as they were walking away leaving the guy unconscious but alive, "I owe you, slayer."  
  
She grinned, feeling oddly comfortable with him for the first time. "Yeah, you do, don't you?"  
  
"Seriously. Thanks for defending me."  
  
She looked at him in surprise; she'd thought he was thanking her for letting him feed after so long. "Uh, sure. Likewise."  
  
In a long moment, in which Spike's heart would have been pounding loudly if it beat at all, he held out his hand to her. Blood rushing to her face, she looked at his hand, then up at his carefully expressionless face. She took a deep breath and put her hand in his. She felt the cool smooth skin against her palm.  
  
"Let's go home, Spike," she said. Together they walked back to the library.  
  
Part 25  
  
Buffy's days and nights became increasingly filled with Spike. She thought of him almost all the time, telling herself it was normal for people who spent all their time together. Her morning meditations on "to stake or not to stake" gradually turned into contemplations of the lines of his body as he relaxed in sleep, the arch of his eyebrows, the shape of his lips. She thought of it as the predator's preoccupation with the prey, or as "beating him at his own game;" she didn't recognize her feelings for what they were -- until the morning he kissed her.  
  
She hadn't been able to get to sleep after they came home near dawn. For some reason the vampire hours she was keeping were beginning to irk her as the summer wore on, and she was restless. She rolled over and looked at Spike. The dim light from the windows in the next room fell on his face, highlighting his cheekbones but leaving his eyes in shadow, and shining on his platinum hair. On impulse, Buffy reached out and traced the line of his jaw with a feather-light touch.  
  
In a sudden movement, his hand caught hers, and his eyes opened. They stared at each other for what seemed like a very long time. Slowly, Spike turned his head and pressed a kiss against the inside of her wrist, and then let go of her hand. She pulled it in quickly. "Good night!" she said, and rolled over to fake somnolence.  
  
Spike cursed mentally. What the hell was going on with him? He had been prepared, as usual, for today to be the day she struck him with the stake. He hadn't been prepared for her gentle touch on his cheek, or for his own response to it. He remembered her tender expression when he had opened his eyes. His new plan of keeping her off balance did seem to be working; he just hadn't been expecting to lose his own equilibrium as well! Spike sighed and tried to go back to sleep.  
  
Breakfast the next evening was tense. Buffy woke up and, ignoring her usual ritual of Spike contemplation, poured her cereal. He got up and reached for the shot glass, but it wasn't there. He looked at her questioningly.  
  
"I've been thinking," she said, carefully avoiding his eyes. "We've been here for how many weeks now? Never mind. But every night we go to the park, we get attacked, and I don't let you kill the mean people because you get my blood instead. That doesn't make sense. Why should I bleed myself every night, just to save the lives of people who make a habit of hurting others?"  
  
Spike realized that her last comment could apply to himself just as well as to any of the park people, and he felt an unfamiliar emotion: shame. He sat down heavily. "Listen, Slayer, I -"  
  
"I'm not finished!" she said. She took a few bites of cereal while he waited patiently. She chewed and swallowed, then said, "This deal isn't working anymore. I've decided to leave."  
  
Spike felt like she'd punched him in the gut. "Uh, where do you plan to go?"  
  
"I don't know yet, but I think I've drained every last drop of fun out of living with a vampire, feeding him every night, and oh, God, I'm even using vampiric metaphors! Plus I've read every book in the place!"  
  
Spike's eyebrows lifted. "I doubt that," he said. There was a long silence, while he considered the plan that had been niggling in the back of his mind for the past couple of days while he lay awake wishing he could get her out of his mind so he could sleep. It wouldn't have been quite so bad if he hadn't known that her sleep patterns were disturbed, too. He flattered himself into thinking it was because of him, but in truth he didn't know how she felt about him. The power game they had started playing had grown and metamorphosed - and backfired.  
  
"So, tonight when we go out, you have my permission to feed if you want to. You're just not getting any more of mine!" Buffy broke the silence. His answer stunned her.  
  
"No."  
  
"What did you say?"  
  
"No. I'm not feeding on anyone."  
  
"Are you nuts? You'll die without a regular supply of blood!"  
  
"And you don't want me to die?" His tone made her look up, into his dark eyes. She said nothing, and looked away again. He crossed over to where she was sitting, and very gently lifted her face so he could see her eyes. He caressed her cheek tenderly. "Buffy," he whispered.  
  
Her eyes widened at his use of her name for the first time. She stood up and tried to back away. "Um, Spike, I -"  
  
He didn't let her escape. Instead, he leaned down and softly kissed her lips. His quick reflexes blocked the punch she aimed at his chin, and he planted a kiss on her fist. Gently he lowered her back into the chair and sat down next to her. "Buffy, I think it's time for us to discuss our options."  
  
Part 26  
  
Giles' phone rang shrilly, and he got up swiftly to answer it. He thought it might have been Adam, calling to say he was in New York; he was not prepared to hear Buffy's voice and he was certainly not prepared for her request.  
  
"Give a vampire back his soul? Buffy, where are you? What are you talking about? Whose soul?"  
  
"Spike's. I want to know the ritual to give Spike back his soul." Very quietly, as if she'd muffled the phone, he heard her say, "He's mad. I don't know if he'll do it or not."  
  
"Buffy, who are you talking to? What is going on?" Giles was angry. Except for her letter, he hadn't heard from her at all since she left. He hadn't known where she was, what she was doing, or anything. The tone of his voice made it clear to her that he wasn't giving out any information until she came up with some answers.  
  
She sighed. "I'm all right, Giles. I'm not ready to tell you where I am yet, but I really need to know if I could perform the ritual, or if I need someone else, or what? I know Willow did it on Angel, and it worked. I just want to know if it's possible to do it on Spike too?"  
  
"I - I don't know." Giles managed to say. His mind whirled with the various implications of what she didn't say: where is she? Where is Spike? Does she know about Angel? Has he found her yet? "Let me ask around and get back to you. Uh, how can I reach you?""  
  
"Tricky, Giles. I said I wasn't ready yet. I'll call you back tomorrow night. I have to hang up now, the lib - uh, there's someone waiting for the phone. Bye!" An intercom announcement almost drowned out her last sentence, and she hung up hurriedly.  
  
Giles hung up his telephone, dumbstruck. He had recognized the voice of the woman on the intercom! He hadn't heard it in a couple of years, but it was unmistakable - as was the gist of the announcement she had made: "Attention, ladies and gentlemen, the library will be closing in five minutes" Giles leaped to his feet, found his address book and dialed an out of state number.  
  
"Uh, hello? May I speak to Linda, please? Yes, I'll wait.  
  
"Linda? This is Rupert Giles. Yes, yes, fine, thanks. How - How are you? Fine, good, good. Yes, I know it's been a long time. Listen, I need your help with something. You remember that photo I showed you a few Christmases ago, of the new slayer I was assigned? Good. Uh, Would you recognize her again? I have reason to believe she might be there now. If you see her, call me back. Yes, I'll be here. Thank you!"  
  
He spent a tense few minutes waiting for the phone to ring. When it did, he snatched it out of the cradle. "He-hello? Yes, it's I. She is? Thank you, Linda! She's with whom? A man who resembles... uh, who is Billy Idol?" He scowled at the reply. "Well if you're just going to laugh at me... No, there is nothing wrong with my musical tastes! Yes, Linda, yes. Thank you for your help. Good-bye."  
  
The next morning, Willow and Xander found Giles alone in the library brooding. "Morning!" Willow said cheerily. "I got your message last night, but I got in too late to call. What's up?"  
  
"I got a call from Buffy last night," he told her. "She says she's all right, but she didn't tell me where she was. I found out from another source."  
  
"Angel? I mean, Adam?" Willow wondered.  
  
"So where is she?" Xander demanded. "Has he found her yet?"  
  
"Uh, no. At least, I don't think so, or she would have mentioned it. She was in the New York City Library, apparently with some gent who resembles Billy Idol, whoever that is."  
  
"Oh, my god!" Willow said. She and Xander looked at each other in horror.  
  
"Uh, who is this Billy Idol?" Giles asked. Willow went and fired up the computer, finding a website dedicated to the rock star.  
  
"Well, if it helps, Giles, here's his picture," she offered. "Which means she's probably with -"  
  
"Spike," Giles finished. "What on earth?" he dropped his head in his hands. Willow cast a concerned glance at her friend, then went to Giles.  
  
"Giles, what's wrong? What did Buffy say?" she asked.  
  
"She asked me to tell her the ritual to give a vampire back his soul," he said. "Specifically, Spike's. I told her I would ask you about it and get back to her. She's calling me again tonight."  
  
"She wants to give Spike back his soul?"  
  
"Why?" Xander demanded. "Why doesn't she just kill him?"  
  
"Perhaps there are other issues, Xander. After all, we know very little about her situation since she left," Giles said.  
  
"Yeah, right. Hey, maybe she hates him too much to kill him, and wants him to suffer guilt and pain like Angel did." Xander brightened at the thought.  
  
"Or maybe," Willow thought out loud, "Maybe she doesn't WANT to kill him." She caught the questioning looks of the other two and explained further. "As far as she knows, Angel is dead. Maybe she's starting to like Spike instead?"  
  
"Willow, that's sick. Twisted, even. Why would she want to date another vampire guy? I mean, you think she'd learn her lesson." Xander opened Willow's purse while he spoke, and rummaged through it. He found a box of tic-tacs and helped himself to some. "And anyway, New York isn't even the hellmouth! How could something like that possibly happen in a place that doesn't even have a hellmouth?"  
  
"I'm sure I don't know. But if the slayer wants a vampire to get his soul back, for whatever reason, it's not really our place to, uh, refuse. Willow, do you think the ritual is possible for Spike? If he and Buffy are, um, spending time together, it might be safer for her if we -- "  
  
"Oh, sure, I get you," Willow affirmed. "Well I could try the ritual here, but I have no way of knowing what kind of effect it'll have so far away. I think it would be possible, but there needs to be some sort of connection there, where Spike is. I think I can..." she stopped talking, thinking furiously. "Yeah, I think it would be possible. All I need is the same stuff as before, and some basic information about Spike. Can I borrow some of your books, maybe your watcher journals?" she wheedled. She'd been itching to get her fingers on those journals for a long time.  
  
Giles smiled indulgently. He was biding his time until the Watcher Council would allow him to tell Willow her destiny. Meanwhile, it certainly wouldn't hurt her to have some exposure to the materials, premature as it might be. He nodded.  
  
Part 27  
  
Buffy was out walking in the sunlight. Once again she hadn't been able to sleep. She went out to feel the sunlight, to look around at other people - ones who didn't attack her in the park, for a change - and to spend some time on her own away from Spike, so she could sort through her strange and unfamiliar feelings towards him. She walked aimlessly, and thought hard.  
  
The first thing she decided was that this had nothing to do with Angel. Thought he had been her first love, he was gone now. She still felt sorry, but no longer felt any guilt. If Angel - her Angel - had known the true situation, he would have thrown himself onto the sword and into hell of his own accord. Buffy was beginning to accept his loss, and even beginning to think about plans for the rest of her life.  
  
Her early days with Spike had been an uneasy truce, but they had gotten to know each other much better, and had both grown and changed as a result of their time together. She knew she had a much better sense of humor about the burden of being who she was, and she knew that he had also changed. The Spike she'd met last fall wouldn't have even thought about making the deal they had made, and certainly wouldn't have shown any discipline regarding when and on whom he fed.  
  
She had never been so shocked in her life as when he had suggested the restoration ritual last night. Had stood by while she made her phone call to Giles, and had explained later that, since he was already living an "angelic" lifestyle (she smiled sadly at the expression) and not killing anyone, getting his soul back would only make it easier for him. He'd have his own conscience to answer to, instead of just the wishes of his roommate/guardian. An "ally," was how he put it.  
  
She shook her head in wonder at the thought that he'd be willing to go through all that just to be with her. By this point in her thoughts, she was sitting alone on a park bench, enjoying the fresh air, the sunlight, and not getting attacked by gang members or winos. She closed her eyes and let the sunlight fall on her face. She smiled, stretched, opened her eyes - and screamed as loud as she could. And ran.  
  
She burst into the basement lounge at the library, startling Spike awake and into his game face. He changed back when he saw it was she, and looked curiously at her. "What's wrong, luv? You look like you've seen a ghost!"  
  
She collapsed on the end of his sofa and struggled to maintain her composure. "I think maybe I have," she said. She took a few long, shuddering breaths and began to calm down.  
  
Spike put a tentative arm around her, and when she didn't object, drew her close. "It's all right, baby. Whatever it is, I'll take care of it," he stroked her hair.  
  
She shook her head. "You don't understand. Spike, the ghost was Angel. I swear I saw Angel out there in the park just now. Standing in front of me in the sunlight!" She rested her forehead on his shoulder and sighed. "I went out to the park to spend some time by myself well, and to think about 'us,' and there he was. Maybe I'm going crazy. I didn't think I was still hung up on him, but maybe I am if I've started seeing his ghost outdoors in sunlight." On an impulse, and to give Spike some reassurance, she kissed his neck where it joined the shoulder. Spike's body stiffened and she drew back, afraid she'd offended him.  
  
"You're right, pet," Spike said in a very strange voice. "It's much more natural to see him indoors under florescent lights!" He drew away from Buffy and moved aside so she could see.  
  
She took one look at the dark-haired man standing in the doorway - and then the two men got treated to a sight that few people have ever seen: Buffy, Vampire Slayer Extraordinaire, fainted dead away on the floor.  
  
Part 28  
  
Spike caught her before she hit the floor and laid her down gently on one of the couches. He sat down at the table and glanced up expectantly. "So, Angel how was hell? I see you got a tan."  
  
Angel stayed in the doorway. "Hello, Spike. May I come in?"  
  
"Sure, sure," Spike gestured expansively around as if it were a mansion. "So you still need an invitation, do you?"  
  
"Not really. I was being polite," Adam responded with a half-smile. He came in and sat across the table from Spike.  
  
"First time for everything, I guess," Spike commented.  
  
"Spike, what's going on?" Adam cut right to the chase.  
  
Spike gave him a sharp glance. "What, do I look like I owe you anything? I rather think you're the one with all the explaining to do!"  
  
A rustling sound behind Spike told them that Buffy was starting to return to herself. Spike got a bottle of water from the little refrigerator and went to her. "Here, pet," he said as she opened her eyes. "Feeling better?"  
  
She groaned. "Spike, is Angel -"  
  
"Yeah, he's here, luv," Spike told her grimly. "If you feel up to joining us, we were just about to start story hour."  
  
Buffy caught sight of Adam sitting calmly at the table and straightened. Her eyes took on that measuring expression she wore when she hunted. "Yeah, I'm fine." Her voice, like her expression, was hard. She took a third chair, carefully choosing the end of the table away from Adam's right hand. She was familiar enough with Angel's fighting patterns to know that he always struck with his right fist first.  
  
"Buffy," Adam said softly. "It's good to see you again." His eyes shone with strong emotion, but the rest of his face was expressionless and his body was relaxed. He took in her new "look" and filed it away mentally to ask her about later, maybe on their way back to Sunnydale and safely away from Spike. Her hair was flat and brittle-looking above pale skin. He might have seen her in the sun today, but he'd bet she didn't see much of it. There were dark circles under her eyes and she was very thin. The skin at her wrists was almost transparent; the veins were visible and blue. Her arms - he raised his eyebrows - her arms were covered with needle marks!  
  
"Thanks," she said shortly. "So, story hour, huh? Can't wait. You go first."  
  
"Buffy, what -" Adam started to ask, but Spike interrupted.  
  
"Tsk, tsk, you heard the lady, Angelus. You go first." His eyes were threatening. "Maybe you can start with what you're doing here with a heartbeat."  
  
Adam sighed. Fine, he'd play it their way. He gave them a quick summary of his experiences. He explained how his soul had been in torment and his body burned away, when Giles, Willow, and the rest had called his soul out of hell and given it a new, human body to inhabit. He told about his baptism and his new name, and ended his tale with Giles' direction to find the slayer and bring her home. "So that's why I'm here," he finished. "It was pure luck that I saw you in the park just now and followed you here."  
  
"Yeah. Sure was lucky!" Buffy muttered. She glanced at Spike who seemed, somehow, even paler than usual. "Your turn. Tell him."  
  
Spike's usual bravado was gone. In a dull, flat voice he told his story. He addressed his story to Adam, but kept his eyes mostly on the slayer. "I had made a deal with the slayer to help her kill you, in return for letting me go free with Dru. I'd had enough of watching you and her together; also, I didn't really want the world to end. So... " and he told about his shock upon seeing Buffy on the airplane, of Drusilla's death, of the agreement that he wouldn't hunt in New York as long as Buffy kept him fed. "And that's the way it's been until a couple of days ago, when I realized I'd fallen in love with her."  
  
Adam was thunderstruck. This he hadn't expected. "You - you love her? The slayer?"  
  
"Yeah, what of it?" Spike said irritably. "You did."  
  
Adam looked at Buffy, whose eyes were locked to Spike's. She took Spike's hand in hers for a moment, then looked at Adam with expressionless eyes. Adam sighed. "Yes, I did," he said, watching her. "Buffy, there's a flight leaving in two hours out of LaGuardia. If you pack your things now, we can be in Sunnydale by tomorrow morning."  
  
Buffy had been examining Adam while he talked. Now she spoke. "So Cordelia made the body for you, huh? She certainly is -- " her eyes raked up and down his frame, " -- observant." Her voice had a bit of a jealous edge to it.  
  
"I've no complaints about it," Adam said, smiling. "It's close enough to the one I had that I barely notice the differences. Also when I get a sunburn now, it only turns pink instead of to ashes!"  
  
Spike muttered "Show-off!" under his breath.  
  
Adam either ignored his or hadn't heard. "Do you need any help packing?" he asked Buffy.  
  
"Listen, Angel, aren't you rushing things a little? What makes you think I'm going back?"  
  
Spike smiled; she really was his kind of girl. He chimed in, "Yeah, 'Adam,' at least give the lady a choice! Why don't you take your sunburn and your soul and your bloody heartbeat back to Sunnydale and leave us alone!"  
  
Buffy rounded on him. "And what makes you think I'm staying here? You guys are both such, such, guys! At least give me a choice!"  
  
"That's what I said, pet!" The tension of the discussion had finally gotten to Spike. He stood up. "But then, there's really not much of a choice, is there? Gee, does the slayer stay in a strange city with a bloodsucking demon-fiend, or does she go with her old boyfriend - who is NOT a bloodsucking demon-fiend anymore - back to her friends and family and do what she's good at? Oh, the dilemma! Which one should she choose?" He pushed violently past Adam's chair and left the room.  
  
Part 29  
  
"Wow," Adam commented. "He seems upset."  
  
Buffy gave him one of her "no DUH!" glares. "Well, think about it, Angel; you took his last girlfriend away from him, too!"  
  
He looked down. "Oh. That's true." He looked up again. "Buffy, can you ever forgive me for the things I did after we... uh -- "  
  
She cut him off. "Hey - no problem. It wasn't really you, after all. I mean, you're really a whole different person now, aren't you? Got a whole new name and everything. Guess I should start calling you Adam now, huh?"  
  
He smiled, and reached out to gently touch her cheek. For a moment, she closed her eyes and submitted to the caress, then suddenly backed away. "Listen, Ange - uh, Adam, I really don't want to rush into anything here." He started to speak, but she kept talking over him. "Or maybe I should be more specific and say I don't want to rush away from anything _here_." She emphasized the last word and looked at him meaningfully. She sighed. "Please understand, I just need some time to think." She stood up. "I'm going out for an hour. You stay here. Please? And when Spike comes back, try not to kill each other. If you do, I'll have a special stake for the survivor, and I don't care if he has a heartbeat or not!" She turned on her heel and left.  
  
She found Spike pacing moodily in the entranceway, glaring out at the sunlight. "I thought you'd gone," she said.  
  
"Yeah, luv, I'm just going to strut right out this door and go for a walk!" He glared at her, then back at the sunlight outside.  
  
"Oh, yeah. Sorry," she offered. Getting to business, she said, "I left him downstairs and asked him not to kill you. If you go back down, please refrain from killing him as well. I'm going out for a while."  
  
"Yeah, better order those airline tickets before they run out of seats and then you'd have to stay another day!" he sneered. "Fine, I won't kill your precious lover. After all, isn't that your job?"  
  
She slapped him across the face as hard as she could, and marched out the door into the sunlight before he could react. Scowling, he watched her walk across the street away from the library and out of sight.  
  
Spike went back down to the basement lounge and sat down across the table from Adam, who hadn't moved. He reflected that he was getting pretty good at these awkward silences.  
  
"Spike, I'm sorry about Drusilla," said Adam. The icebreaking comment intrigued Spike, who raised a quizzical eyebrow. Adam continued, "It's just that - well, I was a soulless monster, and I was just doing what soulless monsters do."  
  
"Monsters like me, you mean," Spike stated.  
  
Adam had the grace to flush. "I didn't mean that," he said uncomfortably. "You're right. The way I treated you was unconscionable. Of course, the fact that I didn't have a conscience might have had something to do with it but doesn't excuse it." He looked up again with a pained expression.  
  
Spike wasn't sure what to say. "Right, well. Dru's dead now, so it hardly matters, does it?"  
  
"I guess not. What does matter is Buffy."  
  
"Yeah, what of her?"  
  
"I want to take her home." Adam told him evenly.  
  
"Yeah, well, I want to keep her here. Guess it's up to her, isn't it?" Spike shifted his weight in the chair. "Might be different if that bleedin' ritual works, but as it is I think we both know which she'll choose." He was quiet for a moment, then said softly, "Damn."  
  
"What ritual is this?" Adam said suspiciously.  
  
"The Romany re-soulling curse, what else?" Spike told him. "Didn't you know? She called her Watcher last night to ask him about it. I thought he would've told you."  
  
"I haven't contacted him yet," Adam told him. He leaned forward. "Tell me."  
  
Spike rolled his eyes. He still felt a bit silly even talking about it, but, "Things have been, uh, tense between us for a couple of weeks, so yesterday, she threatened to leave. I told her how I felt and asked her to stay; even offered to do that restoration thingie if she wanted me to. So she called Giles last night to ask if it were possible, because she knew it happened before. With you."  
  
Adam looked away. "Yeah, it did work. Willow did it, with a couple of others. But Spike, you're three thousand miles away! How could it work here?"  
  
"That's what the Watcher was supposed to find out for us."  
  
Adam rose to his feet. "I was supposed to call him this morning anyway. Let's do it now, and see if there's any new information for you about the restoration ritual. But let me tell you something, my friend: it HURTS!"  
  
"I can live with that." Spike recalled his first few days in the wheelchair and shuddered. He leveled his gaze at Adam. "Why do you want to help me with this?"  
  
Adam's eyes took on a faraway look. "Living with the soul and the demon constantly striving against each other was the hardest thing I've ever done. But it sure beat living without the soul! The gypsies meant it as a curse, and it was, but it also turned out to be a blessing. If I could do that for you, I would. Might make up for how I treated you." His voice lowered.  
  
Spike glanced at him. "Thought we agreed Dru didn't matter now."  
  
"I wasn't talking about Dru this time," Adam said. "I meant you. I'm your sire, the one who took away your soul in the first place. I'd like to try and give it back."  
  
"Much obliged," Spike muttered, embarrassed. "Fine, let's go call Giles."  
  
Part 30  
  
When they got upstairs to the pay phone, there was already someone on the phone, and another woman waiting to use it. They got in line behind her. Spike tapped his foot impatiently. The woman was holding a child over her shoulder, full in Spike's line of vision. Casually, he checked around and, when he saw no one was watching, slipped on his vampire game face and smiled toothily at the toddler. Seconds later he stepped forward and took the woman's place in line as she hurried away trying to calm her frightened, hysterical child.  
  
"Nice." Adam said, amused. He'd seen the whole thing. The guy in front of them hung up and left, and Adam stepped up and dialed.

Rupert Giles sat down and rubbed his eyes. The last five minutes of his life had been a whirlwind. He seriously regretted having even answered the phone when Adam called! His end of the conversation had consisted mostly strangled sounds and gasps. Finally, when he got his wits back, he asked, "Adam, just let me get this straight. You found Buffy. She's been living with Spike. Drusilla is dead, and Spike is in love with Buffy. Do I have it all?"  
  
"Don't forget about the deal they made that Buffy would keep him fed if he stopped hunting others," Adam reminded him.  
  
"Oh yes, of course," Giles sighed, taking off his glasses. "How could I forget that?" His mind was spinning - or was that the room? "Adam?" he called.  
  
Then a new voice came on, but still one he recognized. "Giles, this is Spike. You've heard the whole story by now. Any word on that ritual?"  
  
This, Giles thought, was the dizzy limit (sometimes his mind came up with expressions that his mouth would never say). "Spike? What ritual?" he asked, stalling for time. He was fairly certain that if Spike knew Buffy was planning to curse him with a soul, she might be in great danger.  
  
"Come on, Mister Librarian, don't play dumb with me," Spike growled. "You told the slayer you were going to look into it and let us know if it were possible. Well, with Sherlock- bleedin'-Angelus-Holmes here she's taken off by herself, so you'll have to tell me. Is it possible?"  
  
"Uh, yes," Giles said, startled into a reply.  
  
"Good." Spike said. "What do we need to know?"  
  
Shaking his head in wonder at the thought that Spike actually wanted the ritual performed, Giles told him.  
  
"Good," Spike said again. "See to it. I'll handle things on this end. And Giles? No loopholes this time, mate. Just in case? Right." He hung up the phone and grabbed Adam's arm. "Come with me, chum. We have a job of work to do before she gets back."  
  
Giles carefully rested the telephone back in its cradle. Quickly, he picked it up again and dialed. "Willow? It's Giles. Can you and the others meet me in the library in an hour or so? I have news."  
  
Willow arrived in the library red-eyed. Concerned, Giles asked her, "Are you all right? You look upset."  
  
"Yes. No. I'm fine. Well, I'm not fine in the sense that Oz just broke up with me, but I'm fine in the sense that I still want to help." Willow explained carefully, and blew her nose.  
  
"Oh. I'm sorry. But I'm glad you're here," Giles was pretty sure that covered all the bases. "Where are the others?"  
  
"Xander and Cordelia were on their way over. They should both be here any time."  
  
"And any time, my dear Willow, is now!" Xander announced from the doorway.  
  
"Oh, hi. Where's Queen C?" asked Willow.  
  
Xander grimaced. "She decided to go to the mall instead, this afternoon. I think she's taking a break from all things vampiric for the summer."  
  
Willow gave a ladylike snort. "Wish WE all could!"  
  
"So, um, what are we doing?" Xander asked.  
  
Giles told them about Spike's call. "Willow, are you ready? Can you do it this afternoon?"  
  
She nodded. "Yeah, I figured out how to do it. I just need a couple of assistants."  
  
"You have them. Let's, uh, 'just do it.'"  
  
"Why, Giles! You've been watching television! Good for you!" Xander applauded.  
  
Part 31  
  
"He, uh, he told me that he would take care of things on his end. I just wish we knew what Buffy was up to." Giles worried.  
  
"Well, she wanted us to do the ritual if we could, didn't she?" asked Willow. "Because I don't really like Spike all that much, but I'll do the ritual if it'll help Buffy. And also it'll help more people live, so I kind of think we have to."  
  
Giles' telephone rang. He answered it, listened intently for thirty seconds, and nodded. "Right now. Yes." He said. He came back out and sat down. "We need to get started."  
  
Willow nodded. She began to slow her breathing and calm her thoughts; she couldn't help but be reminded of when she'd done this the last time, with Cordelia - and Oz. Sighing, she pushed the thoughts of Oz out of her mind and tried to concentrate on the ritual. That was a problem, actually. Before, she had had Miss Calendar's original Romani curse to start from: the curse that had been personalized for Angel. Willow had had to run it through several translation programs and then go in and try to change every Angel reference to "Spike" or sometimes, "the Bloody one." She hoped it would work, but there were a couple of instances where she hadn't been able to change it specifically enough because the text hadn't been clear. She had substituted "vampire" and "blood-drinker" instead, and hoped for the best.  
  
On her right, Xander waved the smoking bundle of sage, while on her left Giles recited the responses to her own chanting. Her mouth was chanting the Latin phrases, but her mind chanted I hope it works, I hope it works, I hope it works, I hope it works!  
  
Spike paced restlessly around the lounge waiting for Adam to show up again. When he did, Spike fairly pounced on him. "Well? Did you get it? What took you so long?"  
  
Adam handed him the tiny glass globe. "Here it is: soul under glass."  
  
Spike eyed him sourly. "Right. When do we start?"  
  
"I called Giles on my way in, so it should be any time now. We'll put the orb on the table, and you sit here, and I'm going to wave smelly herbs at you and chant."  
  
Spike rolled his eyes. "Oh, God! Do you have to?"  
  
"Yep!" Adam grinned. "Trust me - I've been through this a time or three."  
  
Grumbling, Spike sat down at the table. He waved away the sage smoke irritably and yawned theatrically when Adam started to chant. "Those Gregorian chants always did put me to -" Suddenly his body stiffened. He screamed in pain and collapsed out of his chair. A few seconds later, the orb glowed brightly and - while Adam recited the rest of the spell - the glow was echoed in Spike's eyes.  
  
Part 32  
  
A moment later, it was done. Spike sat up slowly, groaning. "God, what happened?"  
  
"You'll remember in a minute," Adam told him, not without sympathy. "It'll probably hurt, but at least you're not by yourself like I was. I can help you out, you know." He smiled at a memory. "I'll be your 'Whistler.'"  
  
"Right, well, whistle me up some aspirin, will you? You weren't kidding about the pain - my head feels like someone hit me with an axe!" Spike shook his head slowly trying to clear it.......  
  
Adam slid one silently across the table, with a bottle of water. Spike swallowed it, then downed the bottle of water in one gulp. He slapped the bottle down on the table, then announced, "I feel better. Wow. This sure is a different sort of high from drinking slayer blood! It's interesting."  
  
"You're getting a high?" Adam asked, incredulous. "Huh. I never got a high. All I ever got was guilt."  
  
"Oh, I've got that too," Spike admitted. "I'm sublimating."  
  
"You're what? How can you do that?"  
  
Spike looked at Adam in disbelief. "I'm not the real killer, stupid. The demon is. Why should I feel guilty for stuff my body did while I was away?" He laughed suddenly. "Don't tell me you never realized that? Ha! No wonder you were always so boring and angsty!"  
  
Adam shifted uncomfortably. Somehow, Spike should be having a harder time with this! He was suspicious. "Ok, maybe you're sublimating the guilt, but what about the demon? Aren't you fighting it?"  
  
"Oh, yeah," Spike said airily. "The thing is, I've already been fighting it for weeks now, living with the slayer. Her blood is so unbelievable, I've had all I can do every night not to suck her dry. This just gives me an ally."  
  
Adam gave in and accepted it. "Glad to hear it. And speaking of the slayer -"  
  
"What about her?"  
  
"Well, we got caught up in this ritual and sort of forgot about her." Adam said.  
  
"You did. I didn't. Listen, man, she's the only reason I even went through the bleedin' ritual - it's the one chance I might have with her."  
  
Adam tried to be soothing. "But she didn't say that exactly."  
  
Spike snorted. "She didn't have to, chum. Let's examine the situation, shall we? With you, she gets to go home to her family and friends, you and she get to have a life together and - when the time comes - get old and die together. What does she get with me? Nothing. The only thing on my side is that she's got a soft spot for vampires with souls."  
  
"It's true, she does," admitted Adam. He wasn't really worried about the girl's decision, but wanted to comfort his friend who wasn't going to have an easy time of it after Buffy left. "She and I have been through a lot, though," he said.  
  
"Yeah, yeah, you have a past. You fell in love, then tried to kill each other. _We_ tried to kill each other and then fell in love. What's the bloody difference?" Spike's voice had risen.  
  
Adam didn't answer. In truth, he didn't know what to say, but in the silence he could hear his own heartbeat.  
  
So could Spike. "Bloody hell!" he swore. "Did you have to remind me?" He got a sudden glint in his eye. "I could make you into a vampire again," he suggested. "Can you see the irony of that? Might cure that heartbeat problem you've been having! Not to mention that dreadful, garish sunlight."  
  
"Except that she didn't want either of us to kill the other one. Draining out my heart's blood might constitute a death, if only in the literal sense." Adam felt a little nervous.  
  
"Get out." Spike ordered in a carefully controlled voice. "I don't trust myself not to hurt you right now. The girl I love is going to spend the rest of her life with you, and I don't want to have to look at you. Out!"  
  
Adam got out. He still felt nervous, so he went upstairs and looked through some books on the west side of the building, where the late afternoon sun streamed in the tall windows. He sat down to read in full sunlight, keeping an eye on the door.  
  
Part 33  
  
After a while Buffy came in, saw him sitting there, and headed right over to him. He smiled. "Hey!"  
  
"Hey..." she said slowly. She shook her head. "Sorry. Still not used to seeing you in sunlight."  
  
"That's okay," he said, putting his book away. "Hey, do you need help packing?"  
  
"Um, Ange - uh, Adam, I guess it is - I'm not going back to Sunnydale with you."  
  
"That's okay, Buff. We can go wherever you want."  
  
"I'm, uh, not going anywhere with you. I'm going to stay here. With Spike." She explained carefully.  
  
"What? Why?" Adam demanded.  
  
She sank down in a chair next to him. "I loved you. Angel. But I've just been through so much since we were together that I'm like a whole different person now. And YOU are definitely a whole different person now! We're not the same people who fell in love with each other before. And now I'm with someone else, and we think there's a chance he might get his soul back! Adam, I can't abandon Spike now. He needs me. And, weird as it is to say, I need him, too. Do you understand that?"  
  
Adam nodded heavily. He'd never expected this. Spike, for heaven's sake! "What about your slayer duties?"  
  
"I've found a different way to carry them out."  
  
"But the vampires in Sunnydale -"  
  
"Who's been slaying since I left?"  
  
"Actually, there hasn't been much activity since you left," Adam had to tell her the truth. "Spike, Drusilla, and I were pretty much it." He gazed at her a long moment, then inclined his head. "Go. He's waiting for you downstairs. Impatiently, no doubt."  
  
Buffy flew down the back stairs and ran for the lounge. "Spike!" she cried happily.  
  
"What? Come to hit me goodbye?" Spike asked bitterly. "Or maybe you need help packing your bags?"  
  
Buffy blinked. "Huh?"  
  
"Listen, Slayer," Spike began. Buffy winced to hear the title. So they were back to this, were they? He continued, "I know you can't wait to fly off into the sunset with the only guy around here who can, but you owe me a couple of things before you go."  
  
Buffy started to get angry. "Oh yeah? What?"  
  
"One: I want you to tell me straight out that you're going back with him. Don't try to spare my feelings or any rot like that; I want to hear you say it."  
  
Buffy's anger dissipated. "Fine, I promise I'll be straight with you." She said, hiding her smile. "What else?"  
  
Spike turned his back to her and went to the other side of the room. His normally confident voice came out quiet. "Stake me before you go," he said almost under his breath.  
  
Buffy paused a beat, then went over to him and put her hands on his shoulders. Very slowly, so that he could stop if he wanted to, she turned him around to face her. He lifted his eyes to hers, not even bothering to hide the pain that showed in his. He opened his mouth to speak, but Buffy laid a finger on his lips.  
  
"I'll be straight with you, Spike," she said softly, "just like I promised. I'm not going anywhere. I'm sending him back alone."  
  
Spike's scarred left eyebrow raised a fraction. "Are you serious?"  
  
She nodded. "I want to stay with you," she said, and without another word went into his arms.  
  
Spike held the slayer in his arms with one part of his brain marvelling at the fact she'd chosen him over her now-human lover, and with another part marvelling at how deceptively small and fragile she felt. He tipped her head so he could see her face, and smiled. "Thanks, love," he said, and kissed her fervently.  
  
He had had a dim, vague memory of the only two times they'd kissed before, the first time when Buffy had planted one in the airport utility closet to escape the cops. He had begun to remember that moment more and more frequently (and fondly) lately, but that was nothing compared to how she felt now. He wanted the kiss never to end, but Buffy broke it off when she felt his lips curve into a smile.  
  
She stepped back. "What?" she asked.  
  
"Nothing, luv. I'm just used to you hitting me when I do this!"  
  
"Maybe later," she teased. He grinned wider and pulled her back into his arms.  
  
They were still embracing when Adam walked in a few minutes later. He cleared his throat. "Uh, hello?" They separated. Adam continued. "Congratulations, Spike." He said with a self-deprecating smile. "Like you said, she has a soft spot for vampires with souls."  
  
"Oh!" Buffy's eyes got round. She turned to Spike. "I forgot to call Giles! Did you reach him? Did he think there was a chance for the ritual to work?"  
  
"Well, yeah!" Spike was dumfounded. "What the hell are you talking about?"  
  
She glared at him. "The ritual, fangface! The restoration ritual, the one Giles told me he was going to look into, for you! Duh!"  
  
Comprehension dawned like the sunrise on Spike's face. He looked at Adam. "YOU didn't tell her?"  
  
Adam was just as surprised. "And neither did you, apparently. What do you know? She really does love you, I guess." His expression warred between disappointment and amusement.  
  
"Will ONE of you please tell me, before you both fit into an ashtray?"  
  
"That might be difficult, since I'm no longer a vampire," Adam said mildly. He was starting to actually enjoy this scene. When all was said and done, he did want Buffy to be happy and he really wanted to see her expression when she found out the ritual had already been completed.  
  
"I'll make you fit!" Buffy was really mad now.  
  
Spike finally took pity on her. "Buffy, listen to me." She heard him use her name again, and relented. He continued. "Adam called Giles a few hours ago. We got the details and he and your friends in Sunnydale performed the ritual today, while you were out walking."  
  
"You mean..?"  
  
"Well, you wouldn't let us kill each other. We had to find something to amuse ourselves." Adam said, grinning.  
  
"You mean..?"  
  
"I got soul, baby!" Spike joked. "And might I say how flattering it was to know that you'd stay with me even without it?"  
  
"Yeah, yeah," she teased, "Just don't let it go to your head!" She threw her arms around him and laughed. "Oh my God, Willow and them must be so proud!"  
  
"Oops." Adam said. "Um, I hate to say this, but they don't know yet. We sort of got distracted, fighting over you. I'll go call Giles and tell him what's going on." He left.  
  
Part 34  
  
Giles put down his empty plate and picked up the phone. He dialed the number of the school library, testing out his newly-gained knowledge of how to check his answering machine messages by remote. Ha! It worked! And just as he'd hoped, there was a call from Adam.  
  
"Hello, Giles, it's Adam. Good news and bad news. Good news is, the ritual worked. Spike isn't much of a killer anymore, and Buffy's fine. The bad news will wait until I can tell you in person tomorrow morning when my flight lands at eight. It's 847. Talk to you then."  
  
Eight o'clock the next morning found Giles waiting impatiently for flight 847, eager to see his slayer again. At last Adam came through the gate into the room. Giles looked past him, then back at his face. "Adam, welcome home. Uh, where's Buffy?"  
  
Adam shook his head. "She, uh, didn't come. Let's just say the ritual worked, and she has a soft spot for vampires with souls."  
  
"I see. Is - is that all the bad news?" Adam nodded. "Well, thank God it's no worse!" Giles said. "So she's all right?"  
  
"She's fine. She was beaming and had her arms around Spike when I left," Adam said stiffly.  
  
Giles understood. "I'm sorry. But perhaps we can yet change her mind aboutuh, that, and about coming home?"  
  
"You try. I've given up. Feel like giving me a ride home?" Adam said.  
  
Giles consented, and they rode back to Adam's new apartment in silence. Adam invited him in for a cup of tea, and Giles walked into the new kitchen and looked around. "Uh, Adam? Did you know you seem to have a large gap in your kitchen?"  
  
"Oh, that," Adam nodded. "Yeah, the countertop was so long they had to bring it up in three parts. The first two are here, but I'm wondering if I'll ever see part three of the Countertop." He grinned mysteriously.

[Author's note: Melinda S. Dawney never did post the third part of her story "Counterpoint."]  
  
Giles looked at him oddly, but said nothing.  
  
Willow was lying on her bed at home, crying. Oz hadn't really even given her a reason for the breakup, just that he knew it wouldn't work out so why drag it on and on? She shook her head. She didn't think it was his lycanthropia, because they'd already worked through that problem. Which meant it must be her, she thought. She sobbed. The phone rang, and she rolled her eyes. She could think of any number of people who had her personal number, and didn't want to talk to any of them right now. Unfortunately, she was also cursed with one of those compulsive natures which can't bear to just let it ring, so she blew her nose and said her hello with as much cheer as she could muster.  
  
Apparently, it wasn't enough. "Will? You okay? You sound upset." Xander said. Willow swore, deep inside herself. Why did he have to pick now to suddenly become observant-man?  
  
"I - um I -- " she stammered with a sniff.  
  
"I'll be right over," he said, and the line went dead. Oh, great.  
  
She was somewhat better composed when he got there, but still red-eyed. Xander walked into her room and hugged her immediately. "What's up, Will?" he asked tenderly.  
  
"It's Oz," she said, breaking down again. The gentle note in his voice had done it. "He... I... We broke up. I mean, to be honest, he broke up with me. Yesterday. And I don't even know what I did!"  
  
"I'm sorry, Will," Xander said. He supposed that, in a strange way, he was. Willow had seemed happy with Oz, and he was sorry to see her in pain. This did not diminish his urge to hurt Oz badly with dull silver objects.  
  
"And he didn't even give me a good reason! All he said was that our relationship wouldn't last, so why drag it out. I mean, even if it wouldn't last, why not enjoy it when we had it? Cuz it's more than I had before!"  
  
Xander stroked her back. He tried to crack a joke about what the children might have looked like covered in fur, but she just cried harder. He eventually got her calmed down and promised to go talk to Oz for her. Yeah, he'd talk to him, all right. He'd demand to know Oz's reasons for dumping the sweetest, smartest, most beautiful girl in the world, and then he'd punch him in the face as hard as he could.  
  
Well, that was the theory, anyway. Oz's explanation took the wind out of Xander's sails, leaving him with no righteous indignation left for the hitting.  
  
Oz had been just sitting outside in the park, playing (badly) on his guitar. Xander had come up and said, "Hey, Oz, what's up? Heard you just dumped my best friend, and she's crying over you now. Any reason I shouldn't punch your face in?"  
  
"Well, yeah, actually, I think there might be," had been Oz's response. He'd then gone on to explain, "See, even if there weren't the werewolf thing, there's still the senior thing. I'm leaving in a couple of weeks to go to college in New York, and I didn't want to leave her tied down. Second thing is, I heard what you said to her in the hospital, that she's your best friend and you love her. Third thing is, you're her best friend, and she loves you. Always has. Now, I love her, but she could never love me as much as she loves you. Just hasn't known me long enough, doesn't have the background with me as with you.  
  
"So, there it is. Would you believe I broke up with her because I love her and want her to be happy?" Oz shook his head and went back to his guitar.  
  
Xander was stunned. "Yeah, man, I guess I would. I'm sorry." He stuck out his hand in a sudden gesture of friendship. After a moment's hesitation, Oz took it. "Good luck in New York, friend," Xander said, and left without bashing one single head.  
  
Part 35  
  
Xander went by Cordelia's house before returning to Willow's, to have a talk with her. He knew she wouldn't like what he had to say, but he had to tell her. "Cordelia," he said. "I want you to know that I like you. A lot. And I'm really lucky to be dating the most popular girl in school, but the truth is that I realized I love Willow. Now, I don't know if I even have a chance with her -- but even if I don't, I like and respect you too much to make you play second fiddle."  
  
Cordelia nodded. She'd been expecting this ever since her phone call from Willow yesterday, informing her of Oz's defection. That didn't take away the humiliation of being dumped by a dweeb, but at least it was understandable. And he was right - she didn't want to play second fiddle to anyone! In fact, "That's okay," she said sweetly. "I was going to break up with you later on today anyway. I just found out my dad's been transferred to -"  
  
" - New York?" Xander asked snidely. She nodded and looked at him strangely. "Oh, maybe you'll see Oz there. He just told me he's going to college in New York. And maybe you'll see Buffy and Spike there, too. Boy, at this rate, you might even find another hellmouth!"  
  
"Hmm. Oz is going there too?" she asked coyly. Xander rolled his eyes and took his leave.  
  
Giles had reached Willow before Xander did, and she wasn't home when he stopped by. Knowing the limited number of places she was likely to be, he headed for the library. Bingo.  
  
"Xander!" Willow said. "I tried to call you but you weren't home. Adam's back from New York."  
  
"With Buffy?"  
  
"Actually, no," Adam said, coming out of Giles' office followed by the man himself. "Hard as this is to believe, she's staying in New York with Spike."  
  
"The ritual worked!" Willow informed Xander in an excited squeal. "It worked! I did a powerful magic spell, and it worked!"  
  
"Wow. That's great, Will. So she's staying there, huh. Great." Xander's tone of voice belied his words.  
  
"The ritual seems to have had a curious side-effect as well," said Giles, as usual ignoring the by-play of his charges. He was holding a letter. "It seems that, due to some of Willow's substitutions in the text, in addition to the use to two Orbs of Thesula used at opposite ends of the country, the ritual also restored the souls of all the vampires between here and New York City. I got this letter from the Watcher Council this morning." He put it on the table, and Xander snatched it up.  
  
"Wow, holy vampires, Batman!" he quipped.  
  
Adam grinned. "Nice change from the usual unholy kind, I must say!"  
  
"Yes, Willow, you have congratulations sent from the Council, from Father Joe, and from Brother Luka. Well done. Well done, indeed!" Giles beamed at his protégé, who had gone red, smiling, and speechless.  
  
Part 36  
  
Later that day Willow went red and smiling once again, as she was checking her e-mail. She got a message from secret-admirerguesswho.com, and was intrigued. It read "Meet me at the Bronze tonight at 7. Don't worry; I promise I'm not a demon!" She laughed, wondering who it was. The phone rang at that moment: Xander.  
  
"Hey, Willow! What'ya doing tonight?"  
  
"Actually I think I have a date." There was silence on the other end of the phone. "Xander? Are you there?"  
  
"Um, yeah. Yeah, I'm here. I, uh, wanted to see you today sometime, to talk."  
  
Willow suggested he come over after her date ended; she would call him. He agreed, and she went and turned on the shower to start getting ready. At seven o'clock, Willow appeared in the doorway of the Bronze wearing an outfit that showed off her good mood about the ritual's success, her newfound confidence, and her legs.  
  
She scanned the crowd for familiar faces and found none. Then she heard a dark, sexy voice from behind her say, "Glad you could make it!"  
  
She whirled around to see - "Adam?" Leaning against the wall smiling at her.  
  
"Hi, Willow. I take it you got my message."  
  
She nodded dumbly. She hadn't known whom to expect, but it sure hadn't been him! "Um. Hi," she managed to say.  
  
Adam's eyes searched her face and mistook surprise for dismay. Disappointed, he said, "I'm sorry. You must have been expecting someone else. I'll take you home now, if you'd like."  
  
"Well." Willow said. "To be honest, I was expecting someone else. More accurately, I was expecting ANYone else. I never expected you to be, uh, interested in me. I mean, you're way out of my league. And what about Buffy?"  
  
"About Buffy. Well, she loves Spike now, for one thing. For another, she's changed a lot. I mean, she loves Spike now, for heaven's sake!" He gave an ironic smile. "But I've always liked you too. I just had an obligation to Buffy that sort of took over my life. And that thing about being out of your league is pure bull. If anything it's the other way around."  
  
Willow smiled into his eyes, grateful for the explanation. "Thank you, Adam. And I know exactly what you mean." Since she'd become a "Slayerette" her own obligation to help Buffy had taken over her free time, attention, and even career goals. She continued, "Well, you should know that I'm sorta rebounding from Oz. But we've always been friends, haven't we? And there's no reason why we shouldn't have coffee sometime." She blushed, suddenly remembering the time she'd blown up at him for not having coffee with Buffy.  
  
Adam smiled brilliantly. "Or a dance?" he suggested as he led her to the floor.  
  
Xander was waiting on Willow's porch when Adam walked Willow home. He sat on the porch swing absently whittling stakes - more out of habit than because he thought they'd be needed - when he saw them approach in the darkness: Willow and - ? Who was she with? That guy's way too tall to be Oz, he thought. As he watched, the man bent down and kissed Willow on the cheek and went away. She came up the path alone.  
  
"Xander!" she exclaimed in surprise. "What are you doing here? I thought you weren't coming over until I called." She leaned against the column at the edge of the steps.  
  
Xander's tone was caustic, edgy. "Well, gee, Will, it got to be 10: 30 and I got worried. I wondered 'What was Oz thinking, to keep you out so late?' But now I see you're all over Oz and ready to move on to someone ELSE who's not me!"  
  
Willow gave him her own special brand of the usual "Xander-what-are-you- talking-about?" look and asked him, "Xander, what are you talking about?"  
  
As sometimes happened occasionally not often at all Xander's mouth got going before his brain clicked into gear. "I'm talking about you, with guys. First there was cyber-sleaze, then Bobo the dog-faced boy, now this new guy who's probably a giant shape-shifting frog. How long do I have to wait to catch you between mutants and ask you out?"  
  
Willow slapped him with all her strength. He fell backwards against the porch steps and looked up at her in disbelief. In a towering rage she approached him, step by ominous step. He was first relieved, then uncomfortable, when she decided to lay into him verbally instead of with her fists.  
  
"How dare you?" She cried through gritted teeth. "Do you mean to tell me that now, after I've watched you run after every other girl in school, and I've finally decided to move on with my life, that NOW you notice me? Let's see, first there was Praying Mantis Natalie, who wanted to violate and decapitate you. You'd rather have been with her than with me. Then just for a change from bug to mammal, there's Hyena Jane"  
  
Xander looked away. He hadn't known anyone else knew about the hyena incident. True, he had been alpha male and Jane had just been coming into heat, but somewhere in the back of his mind he wondered if his experience with her constituted his bug insurance. He shook his head and focused back on Willow, who was still screaming at him.  
  
" ...You'd rather have been with an animal than with me, and oh, let's not forget Mummy Dearest. You'd rather have been with a decaying corpse that time, than be with me. And Cordelia! She's almost the worst of all! She's hated us both since before we even started school! She's a lot closer to normal now, thank God, but still - ! And so now you notice me." In a sudden change of energy, she sat down beside him on the steps. "Xander, I've loved you since before we could walk, and you've had chance after chance to ask me out. You wasted them, though. You took too long, and my feelings for you have changed. You're still my best friend, and I hope you always will be, but I don't love you like than anymore. I've moved on. Past you!"  
  
Xander hung his head. She was right; even he couldn't deny it. He'd always known, in the back of his head, how she felt about him, but he'd deluded himself into thinking of her as his best bud instead of actual romance material. He'd taken her for granted, and her diatribe had made him heartily ashamed. "Willow, please," he said. "Please, listen to me. I'm sorry I said those things just now, but I'll explain if you just listen!" Gently, he took her hand in his and just held it loosely. In a calmer voice, he began.  
  
"Will, we've always been friends, and I've loved you as a friend for as long as I can remember; but it wasn't until I almost lost you that I realized I love you as more than that. Now you and Oz broke up, and I broke up with Cordelia because I wanted to see you tonight, to see if we had a chance."  
  
Willow smoothed his hair, not angry anymore. "I'm afraid not, Xander. What I told you is true: I love you very much as a friend, but any feelings other than that are gone now. I'm sorry."  
  
Xander tried to hide his disappointment. "Oh, hey, that's okay I'll take what I can get. And you might change your mind sometime; after all, this is the hellmouth. Stranger things have happened. So who's the guy you were with tonight? 'Cause, if he's not good enough for my Willow, I'll have to kill him." He tried to joke.  
  
"It was Adam." Willow said quietly.  
  
"Adam? Adam Who? You don't mean -"  
  
"Angel. Yes."  
  
"Willow, are you crazy?" Xander demanded. "That guy's -"  
  
"Xander, I don't want to hear it." Willow said tiredly. "Please, just drop it."  
  
In an uncharacteristic concession, Xander relented. He gave her a brief, hard hug and took his leave. As he started his walk home, he mentally tallied up his country music CDs; for some odd reason, he was definitely in the mood for music of pain.  
  
Part 37  
  
Xander took a short cut through the park, aware that the vampiric activity had been low since the end of school. Nevertheless, he took the precaution of taking out a cross and making sure his stake was where he could reach it. As he neared the band of trees, he heard the sounds of a scuffle. Breaking into a run, he made it past the trees and saw two ugly vampires beating up on Adam! Xander tensed and prepared to attack.  
  
"Damn, if this one don't look like Angelus!" said Ugly.  
  
Uglier replied, "Yeah, but he's got better posture. All those years of brooding made Angel round-shouldered!" They two of them laughed. Uglier got Adam into a headlock and Ugly bent down to drink.  
  
Xander made his move. He leaped forward, his momentum causing Uglier to fall into his partner, who lost his grip on Adam. He never regained it, but managed a quick look of surprise at the stake protruding from his chest just before he exploded in a shower of ash.  
  
Ugly looked startled. He lunged for Xander, but tripped over the foot that Adam just managed to stick out. He fell at Xander's feet. Xander kicked him in the head, hard enough to knock him out.  
  
"Quick, your stake!" Adam cried.  
  
Xander shook his head. "I let go when I dusted the other one. It's gone now. Are you okay?"  
  
Adam nodded quickly, and looked around. He spied a broken-off branch sticking out from a nearby tree and ordered, "Here, help me!" Together they lifted the vampire high into the air and slammed it, chest first, against the tree. It regained consciousness long enough to clutch the tree in surprise, then turned to dust.  
  
"Tree-hugger!" Xander taunted. He turned towards Adam, who was bent over trying to catch his breath. "Are you sure you're all right?"  
  
"Yeah," Adam said. "I guess in this new body I don't know my own weakness. I thought I could take on both of them." He flashed Xander a quick grin. "Not very manly, I know! Thanks for, uh, saving my life, man."  
  
Xander brushed off the thanks. "Yeah, well, I like to think you'd do the same for me. Listen, just you be good to my Willow, okay?" He shook Adam's hand and left, walking off alone into the darkness. A faint breeze carried his muttered words back to Adam's ears: "That guy always gets the girls I like, and I can't even hate him anymore! I must be sick." Adam smiled and went home.

Giles, refusing to give up on his slayer, called his friend Linda again after a couple of days, and asked her to check out the lounge in the lowest basement. "Please, just go down and see. I've heard from a good source that the slayer might be, uh, living down there, and I'd really like her to come home."  
  
Linda agreed and started down the stairs for the basement. She had worked there for long enough that she knew the way, even in the darkness. She opened the door to the old lounge and flipped on the light. She raised her eyebrows at what she saw.  
  
A petite blonde girl that Linda recognized as the slayer was about to get bitten by a bleach-blond vampire.  
  
"Look out, slayer, he's a vampire!" Linda shouted a warning to the girl.  
  
Part 38  
  
Spike and Buffy's lives really hadn't changed that much since Adam's departure and the realization that they loved each other. They still kept to their old habits, except that they no longer fought about Spike's kills, since he didn't even feel like killing anymore. Now they fought for fun.  
  
"Unh! Do you have to be so rough?" Buffy complained as she nursed the arm that he had struck with his full strength.  
  
Spike hauled her close to him. "One of the things I love best about you is that you can take anything I throw at you." He had always loved fighting Buffy; she was so strong and clean in her moves, it was almost a pleasure to be taken down by her.  
  
Wriggling out of the embrace, she punched him in the face, then whirled and kicked him in the jaw. He fell to the floor and she fell on top of him. "And you can take whatever I throw back!" She exulted as she gave him a kiss every bit as aggressive as her fighting had been.  
  
He responded enthusiastically, grabbing the back of her head to pull her mouth closer. They kissed hungrily for several minutes, then he pushed her away and sat up. "You sure take a man's breath away, sweet!" he told her, keeping his arms wrapped around her loosely.  
  
"You don't have any breath," she teased.  
  
Spike smiled. "If I did, it'd be gone now," he promised her. With a grin, he pulled her close and kissed her again, eagerly, their mouths seeming to melt together. His hands roamed Buffy's back, sliding under her shirt to stroke the soft skin of her shoulders. He fumbled with her bra clasp for a little too long, and she growled and unfastened it herself, removing both bra and shirt over her head in an impatient gesture.  
  
"God, you're beautiful," Spike whispered. She smiled at his stunned expression and reached over to undo the buttons on his shirt, one by one.  
  
When she was almost halfway down, he grabbed her hands and clutched them tightly. "Listen, luv, I'm not sure this is such a good idea."  
  
Hurt, Buffy withdrew her hands and put her shirt back on with one smooth motion. "You don't want me," she decided, moving to the other side of the room.  
  
Spike snorted. "Sweetheart, we both know that's a big lie!" He crossed the room and put his arms around her from behind.  
  
Relaxing, she leaned back against him, enjoying the solid feel of his arms enfolding her. "So why..? Uh, I mean, Why not?" she asked.  
  
His arms tightened slightly and he sighed. "Every time we kiss, I can feel myself start to Change. Now, the demon has already tasted your blood. I just don't want it to take control and drain you while my mind's on other things."  
  
"You wouldn't let the demon hurt me," Buffy reassured him.  
  
"That's not all, though. I've never, well, made it with a living human before." He looked uncomfortable when Buffy turned and looked at him with wide eyes.  
  
"So you were a -- you know -- when Angel made you?"  
  
He nodded. "Yeah. Drusilla had gone whacko and nearly gotten both of them killed, so he needed a keeper for her. He found me wandering the streets of north London, brought me home with him, and brought me over. Then he showed me Drusilla, and she was so beautiful, and she needed me, and I just had to stay with her. I've been with her ever since."  
  
"Meaning you've never _'been with'_ anyone else?" Buffy asked. They went to one of the couches and sat down to talk, and she held his hand and looked up curiously into his dark eyes.  
  
He would have blushed, if he'd had blood. "'Sright." He looked at her apologetically. "Let's just say I don't know how to do it without bloodletting."  
  
"Eww!" Buffy said. "I really didn't need to know that!" She shuddered, then gave his hand a little squeeze. "Well, you already know all about my, uh, 'experiences.' I've only done it once, but that was enough to turn my boyfriend into a ravenous, blood-sucking fiend from hell. So really, I don't mind taking things slow!"  
  
Spike laughed and kissed her. The kiss deepened after a moment, and he felt the beginnings of the Change. He backed off and turned his head away so she wouldn't see the demonic visage, but he hadn't reckoned on her slayer's strength. She forced him to look back at her with furious yellow eyes in a vampiric face and she kissed him again.  
  
Buffy broke the kiss, then rested her head on his shoulder and held him, knowing full well that his fangs were mere inches from her throat. She felt them descend, touch her neck lightly, then withdraw again. Spike kissed her neck gently.  
  
Suddenly, a voice from the doorway called to warn her: "Look out, Slayer, he's a vampire!"  
  
Part 39  
  
Buffy jumped away, producing a stake from nowhere, and looked around wildly. She saw no one but Spike and the woman in the doorway.  
  
She was a tall woman, big-boned but shapely, and wearing a simple grey knit dress. Her hair was strawberry blonde and quite short, and her only jewelry was a silver cross on a chain, a perfect match to the one Buffy wore.  
  
"Who are you?" Buffy demanded. Spike's face morphed into its human guise, but he kept his distance from the woman and just waited to see what would happen.  
  
"Linda Carrington. I work here, and I'm a friend of Rupert Giles'. May I ask why you're threatening me with that stake instead of turning that Billy Idol lookalike into dust?" the woman asked calmly.  
  
"May I ask what business is it of yours?" Buffy demanded, not lowering the stake.  
  
"Well, if there's a vampire slayer camping out rent-free in the basement, the least she could do is to slay the odd vampire or two! How long have you been here, anyway?" Linda retorted.  
  
"Almost three months. Who told you we were staying here?"  
  
"Oh, so it's 'we,' is it? You've had a vampire here in the library for three months and haven't slain him? What on earth is Rupert Giles thinking of, to let his slayer roam the country with vampires? Listen, Slayer, I'm afraid you're going to have to leave." Linda crossed her arms.  
  
Spike wandered up and put his arm around Buffy. "I'm not into killing anymore, Sweetie, so you can just take your attitude right back up the stairs with you and leave us alone. We were just leaving anyway!" He glared at the woman, who seemed unperturbed.  
  
"Fine, I'll leave, but you two had better be out of here for good, the minute the sun goes down today!" She turned and left.  
  
Buffy sank down on the couch. "Oh, great, now what do we do?" She groaned.  
  
Spike stroked her hair. "Not to worry, pet. I've got a plan." She looked at him curiously, and he cocked his head to one side. "How would you like to go home tonight?"  
  
"Home? You mean"  
  
"Sunnydale. Now that the cops aren't after you anymore, and your friends still like you, and your watcher is -" he gestured to the now-empty doorway, " -- evidently still looking after you... why not go home?"  
  
"Spike, I'm not leaving you."  
  
He huffed. "What, and you think I'm staying here? No way. See, I'm sort of homesick myself, and I've got it figured out. We could fly into LA tonight, drive down to Sunnydale tomorrow night, and by the day after, you could be back with your mum. And if she's still squiffy, then come and live with me! That way I could watch your back when you patrol."  
  
She looked at him sharply. "Who said anything about patrolling? If I go back to Sunnydale, it'll be to enjoy a normal life!"  
  
He rolled his eyes. "Yeah, and shacking up with a re-souled vampire is normal, is it? Listen, 'Slayer' -- that's what you are. You can't escape it, so you might as well go home and face it." Spike shrugged. "And look on the bright side: it can't get any worse than it has already!"  
  
Buffy broke down and laughed. She cuffed him affectionately. "I suppose you're right. Fine, 'luv,' let's go home."  
  
Epilogue  
  
Two days later, Buffy cautiously opened the doors to the library, both hoping and fearing to find Giles there. Her hopes and fears were realized and in fact deepened; he heard the door open and called out, "Joyce? I'm in here." He came out of his office and saw her. "Oh!" His jaw dropped, then he smiled broadly and enfolded Buffy in a hug. "Oh, thank God! Buffy, you're home!"  
  
"That depends," Buffy said, laughing at his unusual display of feeling. "I still don't know if I have a place to live yet, (unless you count here!) but I am definitely back among the living!"  
  
"Have you left Spike?" Giles asked in surprise.  
  
"Oh, no. Well, I left him sleeping in Angel's old apartment, but no, I haven't left him. The ritual worked, you know."  
  
"I know. Adam told me. So you haven't seen your mother yet?"  
  
"Nope. You're my first stop. Sounds like you have, though. 'Joyce, I'm in here'?"  
  
Giles removed his glasses, then put them back on again. "Well, you did say in your note to her that she should come to me with questions. She did."  
  
"Giles. How much time have you spent with my mother?" Buffy demanded.  
  
"Well, she does have a LOT of questions. I begin to see where you get certain of your, uh, personality traits."  
  
"Giles!" Buffy warned.  
  
He sighed and sat down in a chair. "Three or four evenings a month." He confessed. "Also some mornings and afternoons." He knew he might as well tell her; she would find out sooner or later anyway. He looked back up at her, prepared to meet her look of outrage, but was surprised when her expression showed amusement, and an odd kind of satisfaction.  
  
"Well," she said, sitting down beside him. "At least you're not some psycho android who's going to drug her with cookies and object to my going out slaying every night!"  
  
"No. At least I won't do that. And were I you, I wouldn't worry too much about not being welcomed home." Giles reassured her. They smiled at each other, glad to have things back to some degree of normalcy.  
  
"BUFFY!" came Willow's ecstatic shriek from the doorway as she rushed to hug her friend. "Welcome home! Adam told us you were back, and I had to see you right away!"  
  
"Hi, Will! Hi, Xand-man!" Buffy said happily. Then, slightly nervously, "Hi, uh, Adam."  
  
"Hey, Buff. Glad to have you back with us," Adam said. He had come in with Willow. He hugged Buffy tightly after Willow had her turn, then purposely went and put his arm around Willow.  
  
"Hey, what's all this, then?" Buffy asked, teasing. "Are you guys dating now? How did this happen?"  
  
"It's the hellmouth," Xander started to explain, but got cuffed by Willow.  
  
She blushingly tried to explain. "Well, Oz left me and went to New York, and then Adam came back without you and asked me for a date, and well..."  
  
"I like her. And you seemed so happy with Spike," Adam explained, watching her closely. He DID like Willow, but didn't want to hurt Buffy. "Buff, are you okay with this?"  
  
"Well, other than the fact that it's really weird, yeah!" she grinned. "And yeah, I am happy with Spike. Hey, thanks for letting him have your apartment, by the way."  
  
"No problem. I'm a lot happier with the nice, high, sunny place that I have now." He said. "Been a long time since I could say that!" He grinned.  
  
"Well, isn't this a happy gathering!" Principal Snyder stalked into the library in his usual pompous way. "So, Summers, finally decided to come back and finish the job?"  
  
"You know I didn't do that! Not even the 'deeply stupid' police still think I killed that girl!" Buffy shot back.  
  
Snyder gestured impatiently. "I know that, girl! Do you think I'm as stupid as they are?"  
  
"Do you really want me to answer that?"  
  
"I'll have none of your lip, Summers. Listen up. School starts next week, you've been reinstated, and I expect you to be there. Uneducated Vampire Slayers are a hazard to themselves and others. So finish what you've started!" And with that, he stalked out again, leaving behind a totally mystified group of people.  
  
"Oh, my!" spoken by Giles, pretty much summed up the feelings of everyone in the room.  
  
"Well, listen guys, I'm going to go home now and see where things stand with my mom. I'll see you all later."  
  
Buffy went home to find that Giles had pretty much summed up the situation with Joyce fairly accurately. Mrs. Summers, although still greatly worried about the dangers of her daughter's nightly battles, had had three months to get used to the idea. And with that came pride in her daughter.  
  
"Buffy, can you ever forgive me for being so clueless? For not noticing? All these years I've thought you were an underachiever and a troublemaker, and now I find out you've saved the world several times and you go out every night and fight demons! And win! It was fairly mind-blowing." Joyce told her after the effusive and tearful greetings were out of the way.  
  
Buffy smiled. She couldn't remember a time when every aspect of her life had melded so well and she felt so at peace. Then she remembered. "Uh, mom? Did Giles tell you I'm dating another vampire?"  
  
When the dust had finally settled in the aftermath of that battle-scene and she finally left her mother's house, the late afternoon sun was making long shadows in the streets. She went toward the Bronze and up a small alleyway nearby, and knocked on the door of what used to be Angel's apartment.  
  
"Slayer!" Spike said happily when he opened the door. "Come on in."  
  
Buffy went in and put up her feet, smiling wearily. "Sorry, I'm still not used to being awake all day."  
  
"Didn't think you would be. Here." Spike handed her a cup of coffee, which she sipped gratefully. "So, what's going on? You didn't come back last night. Did your mum-- "  
  
"She took me back. Oh, Spike, it was so weird! Get a load of this: I'm gone for three measly months, and Xander and Cordelia break up. She's moving to New York, of all places, and so is Oz. Willow, who I thought would be heartbroken about Oz, is happily dating Angel -- uh, Adam! My mom knows all about my being the slayer, and Giles even told her about some of the other stuff that's gone on. She doesn't even hate you anymore!"  
  
"Good. Bet she still won't talk to me, though," Spike said, amused.  
  
Buffy shrugged. "And that's not all! She and Giles have a DATE tonight! How gross is that, my mother and my watcher having a... thing! Xander's still Xander, of course, but instead of lusting after me, he's after Willow now!"  
  
"...Who is with Adam, you said?" Spike said, his brain beginning to whirl.  
  
Buffy stood up and began to pace back and forth. "Yeah. The one good thing is that the school board got on Snyder's case and got me back into school. My mom told me about all this. Seems he goofed up big-time -- get this! -- he thought I was a demon, or something! He knows about the hellmouth, but he thought I was part of it! I think he got some sort of reprimand from the Watcher's Council, so he let me back in and he's toeing the line now."  
  
"Finished?" Spike asked dryly as Buffy's torrent of words ended and she collapsed beside him on the couch where he had been watching her pace back and forth, back and forth. Like watching tennis, he thought.  
  
"Yeah, I think that's everything." Buffy said.  
  
Just then the phone rang. Buffy answered it. Giles' voice came across the line, "Buffy? Oh, good, I was hoping I'd find you there. I need you to come to the library right away; while you were gone, I've been studying the Pergamum Codex. There have been some serious portents which point to a rather alarming prophesy concerning the slayer's return. We need to step up your training so you'll be prepared to face it."  
  
"Well, what is it, Giles?" Buffy asked.  
  
"Well, according to my research and Willow's, the signs seem to point to the end of the world." Giles stated flatly.  
  
Buffy rolled her eyes. "Is that all? Geez, Giles, you could have waited till tomorrow for that. After all, it's not like we haven't been there before!"  
  
"Buffy, I --" Giles sputtered.  
  
Buffy said, "Kidding, Giles! I'll be there in a while." She hung up the phone and started to laugh.  
  
"What's up, luv?" Spike asked.  
  
"Oh, there's another end-of-the-world prophesy that I have to abort later on tonight. Nothing major." Buffy explained, taking another sip of coffee.  
  
Spike chuckled. "Hey, find one thing and do it better than anyone else! Home, sweet hellmouth, eh?" he said as he kissed his slayer.  
  
END 


End file.
